Worst Case Scenario
by Shadpup
Summary: A blast from the past enlists Emily's help in a personal matter and has her returning to a place that was part of the darkest moment of her life.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everyone. I'm back. It took me a little longer than normal because things have been a bit hectic and they still are. That is going to have an impact on my posting. Unfortunately I'm going to have to go to an every two-week posting schedule for the time being. Hopefully things will settle down and I will be able to go back to the once a week posting schedule. Fingers crossed, so please bear with me. Now lets get the traditional disclaimer out of the way. I do not own Criminal Minds or any of their characters; I just borrow them to play with._

 _This story takes place after "Back in the Saddle." Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

Emily's body cut through the water like a knife. She focused on keeping her breathing even, coming up for a breath of air with every fourth stroke. Swimming was not her favorite form of exercise, running was, but it had been part of her physical therapy program. Now that she had finished it and finally gotten rid of her perpetually over enthusiastic therapist, she found that it had become a habit. Instead of trying to break it, she decided to keep coming to the pool twice a week. Between the swimming and running, her body was almost back to its before Doyle level of fitness. Of course, she wasn't going to break any world or Olympic records with her freestyle, but her aim was to keep her pace steady and her strokes smooth.

After thirty laps, Emily climbed out of the water tired, but pleased with her progress. Removing her goggles, she grabbed her towel and headed for the locker room to wash the chlorine from her hair and body. A half hour later, Emily stepped out into the afternoon sun and headed for her car. Halfway there, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. As she walked, she casually scanned the parking lot but no one stood out.

She unlocked the car with the remote. Before climbing in, Emily paused and looked around one more time. Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, she shrugged and chalked it off to the remnants of the paranoia that still haunted her. Emily slid behind the steering wheel and reverently ran her hands over it. It felt good to be driving again. No longer did she have to rely upon others to drive her to work, to her doctor appointments, or any errands she might have had. As soon as she had been cleared to drive, she had made JJ take her to the storage unit to fetch her car. Now she had her independence back. _Well, most of it_ , she amended. She was still living in Dave's guest room but that would soon be changing.

Smiling, Emily started the car and shifted into first. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she was now a homeowner. Before Doyle, she had never considered owning any real estate, preferring to rent. When she thought about it, she had come to the realization that in the back of her mind was the worry that Doyle would find her and force her to flee at any moment. So she had remained unencumbered of large personal property. Anything of importance was small and easily portable. But now that Doyle was dead, she wanted to put down roots and have a permanent home. Thanks to Derek, she was now the proud owner of a row house in Dupont Circle. After consulting with her accountant, Emily ended up taking out a mortgage to pay Derek back because she could deduct it on her taxes.

As she drove, Emily thought back to when the two had sat down to discuss the improvements Derek wanted to do to the row house.

* * *

" _Well? What do you think?" Derek asked, opening his beer as he watched Emily intently study the blueprints of the house._

 _The two friends were sitting out on the patio, eating pizza and drinking beer while looking over the plans he had drawn up. They had come directly from the BAU to Rossi's where Emily had been staying and recuperating since her return to the states. Dave's dog, Mudgie, was under the table lying on top of her feet._

 _Emily looked up with a smile on her face. "I like it, but…" she trailed off._

 _He arched an eyebrow. "But what?"_

" _I was wondering…." Again she stopped and bit her lip. "Never mind," she said with a wave of her hand._

 _He set his beer down and rested both elbows on the table. "Say what is on your mind, Emily. This is going to be your house."_

" _I don't want to offend you. I know you worked hard on these plans."_

" _You won't. Like I said, it's going to be your place and it should be fixed up the way you want it. These plans are just tentative," Derek said, tapping the blueprint with one finger._

 _Emily nodded and pointed to the interior walls. "Are any of these load-bearing walls?"_

 _He frowned, looking at where she was pointing. "I don't believe so. What are you thinking?"_

 _Seeing that he was open to her suggestions, she pushed on. "I prefer an open room concept, much like my old apartment." She ran her finger over the plans. "A breakfast bar could separate the kitchen from the rest of the living space and, if you can, I would love to keep the beautiful crown molding."_

 _Derek nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I can do both," he said and she smiled in relief._

" _Now upstairs there are three bedrooms with one bathroom. I was thinking of combining the two small bedrooms into a larger one and a bathroom. That way the master bedroom will have its own." Derek turned the page and showed her the layout of the second floor. "What do you think of that?"_

" _I like it."_

 _Derek grinned at her obvious delight. It was nice to see her excited about something. "Now on to the big decision," he said, taking a sip of his beer._

" _And what is that?" she asked, slipping a piece of crust to her furry companion._

" _Currently the basement is set up as a separate apartment. Do you want to keep it that way?"_

 _Mudgie let out a pitiful whine and Emily fed him another piece. "I'm not around enough to be a landlord nor do I have any desire to be one. It's too much of a headache and I get enough of those from work," she admitted. "I'm picturing the space as my study with lots of shelves for my books."_

" _I can picture that. I'll draw up a new layout. Then we can go over it and you can tweak it to your liking. Agreed?"_

" _Agreed."_

 _Mudgie whined again and Emily showed him that her hands were empty. He sighed and dejectedly dropped his head onto his paws._

" _You've spoiled him rotten," Derek said, chuckling._

" _Yup," she said with a grin. "Mudgie and I are the best of buds now."_

" _He's going to miss you when you leave."_

" _I know. I'll miss him too." She pulled the foot that hadn't fallen asleep from out under the dog and rubbed it along his back. "But I think Dave would like to have his dog back."_

" _Probably. Any other changes you would like to make?"_

 _Emily picked up her beer and took a long drink before answering. "There is one more thing and I don't know if you can do it." Setting the bottle down, she flipped through the blueprint pages until she found the one she wanted. "Could part of the attic space be converted into another bedroom?"_

 _He bent forward and studied the plans. "I think so. Building codes require that a bedroom must have a window and there is one at the back. May I ask why?"_

 _Emily turned her attention to her beer bottle; slowing turning it with her good hand since her other arm was still in the sling until she saw her regular doctor tomorrow. "Russ' aunt has pretty much washed her hands of him when he turned eighteen," she said quickly._

 _Derek nodded in understanding. "And you want to give him a place to crash during breaks or when his roommate is entertaining." He said the last while waggling his eyebrows._

 _She groaned and made a face. "I don't even want to think of Russ doing that."_

 _He roared with laughter much to her chagrin. "Emily, he's a grown man," he said when he had caught his breath._

" _I know but still ugh," she retorted, repressing a shudder._

" _I think it's a good idea," he agreed with another chuckle. He was amused at how motherly his best friend had sounded. He thought it was funny how Emily groused about Dave occasionally going parental on her and here she was unintentionally doing it to Russ._

 _She looked up at him and smiled in relief. "You do?"_

" _Yup. It's good to have a place to call home."_

* * *

Emily pulled up in front of her new house. She wanted to take one last look around to see if there was anything else she wanted to salvage before Derek gutted the place. It had taken two months to reach this point after she had said that she wanted the row house. Between the appointments with the accountant, mortgage advisor, physical therapist, and the heavy caseload at the BAU, the two friends were left with little time to start the makeover. Now that their hectic schedule had eased up, Derek had said he could get to the remodel sometime this week. She was looking forward to watching her place transform from a dump to the place of her dreams. Emily had planned on helping him but she wasn't sure if he would let her. Derek was still overly concerned about her shoulder even though she had assured him many times that she was back to one hundred percent good health. He still had his doubts even after she had scored high marks when she had re-certified shooting with her right hand.

 _He'll just have to deal with it,_ she thought as she exited the car. She walked around the front of it and had just reached the wrought iron gate when the hairs on the back of her neck stood in alarm for the second time in one day. Her watcher was back. Not wanting whoever was tailing her to know that this was her house, Emily kept on walking down the block. She casually glanced around and caught a glimpse of her shadow not far behind her.

When Emily reached the corner, she turned to the right and put on a burst of speed once she knew she was temporarily out of her stalker's sight. She ducked into the nearest doorway and pressed her back against the brick wall. She drew her weapon and held it ready, for once thankful for the lingering paranoia that made her carry her gun on her twenty-four hours a day. With eyes glued to the street, Emily took slow deep breaths to center her mind and calm her nerves. She listened intently for any sounds of pursuit.

Emily thought she had shaken her tail after a few minutes of silence. Then came the sound of footsteps approaching the corner. Straining her ears, she heard them pause and then turn in the direction she had gone. She automatically tightened her grip on the gun as the footsteps drew nearer. Emily blew out a sharp breath and leapt from concealment.

"FBI! Do. Not. Move!" she ordered, shoving the Glock in her shadow's face.

"Hello, Prentiss."

Her eyes widened in shock and she instinctively took a step back. Lowering the gun, she gaped at the apparition standing before her.

"Gideon?" she breathed in disbelief, staring at the man who had disappeared off the face of the earth five years ago.

Emily almost didn't recognize him. He was heavier and had let his hair grow out into an unruly mess. He sported a thick, scruffy beard that was liberally streaked with gray. But it was his voice that gave him away; that condescending tone of his. Her incredulity melted into anger. He had scared the crap out of her.

"Why the hell were you following me?" Emily demanded, shoving her weapon back into its holster.

He gave her a crooked smile. "I wanted to speak to you," he said reasonably.

Her eyes narrowed. "There are better ways to do that than by stalking me," she retorted.

Gideon held his up his hands. "I apologize, Prentiss." He smiled again. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Emily stared at him fuming. She wanted to blow him off like he did to everybody five years ago, but her curiosity wouldn't let her. She blew out a breath of frustration and ran a hand through her hair.

"Fine," she said in resignation. "Come with me." She almost said follow me, but she already had enough of that today.

Gideon fell into step with her as Emily retraced her steps to her house. She unlocked the front door and ushered her old boss inside. With his hand clasped casually behind his back, he peered up the stairs and peeked into the front parlor all the while nodding appreciatively.

"This building has character," he observed, turning to her. "Are you planning on leaving it the way it is or completely gutting it?"

"Gut it. I prefer an open room layout," she said.

"I can see that," he said with another nod and looked around.

Emily bit back an angry retort and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gideon, what do you want?" she asked, cutting to the chase.

"I need your help," he said, turning back to her.

She frowned at that. "My help? With what?"

"After his college graduation, my nephew, Noah, decided to take a year to hike through Europe. The other day my sister was notified that he had been killed in Paris."

All the anger Emily had felt for him dropping unwanted backed into her life evaporated. "Gideon, I'm so sorry for your loss," she said in sympathy. "But what does that have to do with me?"

He waved off her condolences. "I volunteered to go identify the body and I would like you to come along as my translator. You are fluent in French?" he asked.

"I am," she confirmed, a bit baffled by the conversation. "But there are translators just as qualified there."

"They aren't you."

Emily didn't know what to say. Compliments from Gideon had always been few and far between.

He continued. "There still is corruption with the police forces. I believe they will only tell me what they think I want to hear. With you at my side, you will be able to tell what they actually said. Just like what we did at Gitmo."

She sat down on the stairs. "I don't know," she said with some hesitancy.

He locked eyes with her. "Prentiss, you're the only one I can trust," he said frankly.

Now she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wanted her help, but at the same time, she had no desire to return to Paris now or anytime in the near future. The place held too many bad memories. And why was he turning to her in his time of need? They weren't friends; they were far from it. She knew very little about him and he knew nothing about her. It would have been more logical for him to approach Hotch. He continued to look at her expectedly.

"I would have to clear it with Hotch first," she said, stalling for time.

"Understood."

Emily bit her lip and sighed, making up her mind. "I'll do it on one condition."

"Name it," he said with a nod.

"You need to talk to Reid," she said.

It was Gideon's turn to frown. "Why?"

She searched his face for any sign that he knew what she was referring to and found none. He seemed genuinely clueless. She stood up.

"He was hurt and confused when you left," she said, remembering the abandoned look in his eyes.

Gideon was still confused. "I left him a letter."

Emily shook her head as she repressed a sigh. "He deserves to hear the reasons directly from you."

He took a moment to consider her words then nodded. "I will when we get back."

She shook her head. "No. Before," she said emphatically.

Emily was afraid Gideon would disappear the moment they got back stateside. All she wanted to do was to give Reid some closure. Every now and then over the years, she had caught a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes from the abandonment he still felt. And her actions over the past year had only made that feeling worse. Reid's sense of loss and abandonment had deepened with her death. With her miraculous return, the feeling had lessened for him but their relationship wasn't at the same level it had been before Doyle. Back then she was the only one he had confided in about his headaches. Now if anything was troubling him, he kept it to himself or told someone else but not her. Emily hoped this would be another step in mending their now fragile friendship.

"Okay," he agreed.

She nodded, relieved that he had assented. "Uh…do you have a number I can reach you at? It will probably be a few days before I'm free to go." In the back of her mind, she was hoping that Hotch would deny the request and get her off the hook.

Gideon reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number scrawled over it.

"You can reach me here any time of the day," he said, handing it to her. "Does Reid still have the same number?"

"He does," she answered, taking the paper from him.

"Good," he said with a nod. "I should be going."

He went to the door and Emily followed him out. Gideon waited on the steps while she locked the door. When she turned around, he said, "I want to thank you for what you are doing."

Emily shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Don't thank me yet. I'm not sure I will be of much help."

"You already have," he said with a small smile.

Gideon gave her a nod then turned and headed down the rest of the stairs and out through the wrought iron gate. Emily remained standing where she was and watched her old boss head off down the street. When she could no longer see him, she looked down at the slip of paper that was still clutched in her hand. Slowly, Emily crumpled it into a ball, unable to shake the feeling that this trip wasn't going to go well.

* * *

 _Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Please let me know what you thought about it. It will be much appreciated._

 _Before I go, I want to thank everyone who nominated my last story for the Profiler Choice Awards. I was tickled pink when I got the notice. Thank you. Don't forget to the check out all the nominations and vote for your favorite stories. There are a lot of good stories there. See everyone in two weeks. Until then._


	2. Chapter 2

Four days later, Emily found herself sitting next to Gideon in first class heading back to the city she had come to think of as her personal hell. Much to her dismay, Hotch had approved her request, though he had been just as puzzled as she had been to why Gideon had approached her. But it wasn't getting his approval that had caused the delay in her departure; it had been all the paperwork he had to file to allow her to legally carry her weapon on the plane and in France. When it finally went through, Emily had no choice but to let the ex-profiler know that she was available to go.

Emily had hoped to slip out of town without the rest of the team knowing the real reason she was going. She didn't think Gideon would want his personal business known by everyone. All she had initially said was that she was taking some time for personal reasons and Hotch had backed her up. Neither had also been sure how the team would react if they knew Gideon would be accompanying her. For all they knew some members of the team might still be harboring some ill feelings toward the man for his abrupt departure.

But Penelope being Penelope sensed deception afoot and teased from her computer system the real reason for her trip. As soon as JJ had heard that her final destination was Paris, she cornered the brunette in the bathroom. Emily had tried to slip past the blonde because she didn't want to have another heart to heart talk in the ladies room. The last one had ended up with her cryptically saying goodbye to Penelope.

 _JJ stood with her back to the door and wore a worried look on her face. "Emily, are you sure about this?"_

" _What do you mean?" Emily asked even though she knew exactly what she had meant._

" _You're returning to Paris. A place that played an integral part in one of the worst times of your life," JJ pointed out._

 _To this day she still didn't know what had happened during the three months her best friend had spent in exile. Emily still refused to talk about it and JJ had her doubts that she ever would._

 _Emily brushed off the comment. "JJ, it's just a city. There's nothing to worry about. I'll be fine."_

 _The concerned look didn't go away. "That's what worries me. Promise me you'll call the moment you start to feel overwhelmed?"_

" _I promise," she said sincerely. "But it probably won't even come to that. I should only be there for a day or two at the most."_

" _Still…" the blonde trailed off and gestured helplessly. "I just worry about you," she confessed._

 _Emily smiled. "Don't. I'll be fine and I'm not saying it simply to get you off my back. I mean it this time."_

 _JJ considered her words then slowly nodded. "Okay. But if I find out you aren't, I'm going to kick your sorry ass into next week when you get back."_

" _I'll even bend over for you," Emily said with a laugh._

Hotch had also expressed his own concern but in a more straightforward manner.

 _"Remember that if you find you are having a bad day, call me regardless of what time it is."_

" _I will," she agreed with a small smile._

* * *

Emily glanced at her traveling companion. Gideon was currently engrossed in one of the magazines he had picked up at a newsstand in the airport. Besides their initial conversation, the two had barely exchanged more than ten words.

"Did you talk with Reid?" she asked.

She had tried to check with him but for some reason the young genius had proven difficult to pin down. She hoped he wasn't under the false impression that she was running away again.

Gideon set the magazine down and took off his reading glasses. "I did."

"And how did it go?"

"It went well," was the definitive answer. He put the glasses back on and returned to his reading.

Emily nodded and turned back to the plane's window. She was sitting next to a complete stranger. Any commonalities they might have shared had vanished the day he had left the BAU. Not that she felt like talking anyways. She was actually looking forward to a quiet flight.

As she gazed out at the seamless blue sky, Emily let her mind wander. To come on this unexpected trip, she had to cancel the second lunch with her mother. That thought took her back to their first. Emily had kept her word and had contacted her mother once she returned from St. Paul. After exchanging a bit of polite conversation they had agreed to have lunch on the following Saturday.

* * *

" _Sorry I'm late," Elizabeth apologized after the hostess had shown her to the table. "The meeting ran longer that I had expected."_

 _Emily hopped to her feet. "It's okay. I just got here myself," she lied. She had been cooling her heels for twenty minutes and had been considering leaving when her mother made her entrance._

 _Mother and daughter exchanged an awkward hug before taking their seats. Both picked up their menus. Elizabeth studied hers intently while Emily pretended to read hers since she had made her selection a long time ago. The waiter materialized at their table, seamlessly took their orders and disappeared as quietly as he had arrived._

 _As Elizabeth placed the napkin in her lap, she took note of the half empty glass of red wine in front of her daughter. Mentally, she kicked herself for her tardiness. Obviously Emily had been waiting longer than a few minutes and lied about it because she had expected her to be late or not to show up. No wonder she doesn't trust me. I keep letting her down, she thought ruefully. Elizabeth briefly considered apologizing again, but decided against it. Her apology would fall on deaf ears because Emily would assume it would be an empty one like all the other ones she had heard over the years._

 _To cover her doubts, the Ambassador took a sip of her water. "How are you feeling, Lee? I see that you are no longer wearing the sling," she observed._

 _Emily smiled a little at the term of endearment she used to hear when she was younger. "I'm feeling good, Mother. The collarbone has finally healed so the doctor has given me a clean bill of health."_

" _Good," Elizabeth said with a genuine smile. "And the case in St. Paul. Did you catch the perpetrator?"_

" _Yes," Emily answered with a single word, knowing that her mother was simply being polite since she never approved of her career choice._

" _Tell me about it if you can."_

 _Emily blinked in surprise. Her mother had never expressed any interest in the cases she had worked. Was she genuinely curious or was she just humoring her? Well there was only one way to find out._

" _Uh…sure," she stammered and launched into it._

 _She held nothing back including what the UnSub had done to his victims because she wanted to see how her mother responded. The Ambassador had her politician face on, but Emily caught her flinching several times throughout the narrative. She also saw the flicker of concern in her eyes when she got to the part where the UnSub had knocked her down the stairs._

" _Did he hurt you?" Elizabeth demanded, startling her daughter with her fierceness._

" _No," she reassured her mother. "I was just bruised from the fall. The hospital did keep me overnight for observation just to be on the safe side."_

" _Good for them," she agreed and took a sip of her wine. She personally thought Emily was hurt too often with this job but she didn't put a voice to how she felt. "I know in the past I haven't been supportive of your career choices and made my opinion loudly known. But now I know it's what you're destined to be, and I'm proud of you."_

 _Emily frowned, staring at her mother in disbelief. What had happened to the woman who had disapproved of everything she ever did. "I…I don't know what to say."_

 _Elizabeth smiled over her glass. "Don't say anything. Just take it for what it is, a compliment."_

" _Okay."_

 _Their lunches arrived putting an end to the conversation. As they ate, Emily asked her mother about her current posting and was quickly brought up to date. Soon that topic was exhausted and an awkward silence fell over the table. Not knowing what to say to each other, the two women focused their attention on finishing their meals._

 _Elizabeth sat back in her chair and studied her daughter as she inhaled the aroma of her after the meal coffee. Emily had surprisingly turned down the coffee and was now slowly twirling her empty wine glass in circles. 'She's still not comfortable being around me and is anxious to leave,' she thought sadly. She, on the other hand, was enjoying her daughter's company and wasn't ready for it to end._

" _Are you still staying at Agent Rossi's place?" she casually asked._

 _Emily looked up from her contemplation of the wine glass. "Yes."_

" _Having difficulties finding the right apartment?"_

" _No," Emily said with a shake of her head. Then she gazed off into the distance like she was considering something. Her eyes came back to the table and gave her mother a tentative smile. "Actually, I'm buying a house."_

 _Elizabeth's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Where?"_

" _It's a row house in Dupont Circle."_

" _How did you find it?"_

 _Emily interpreted her mother's reaction as disapproval and dropped her eyes to her empty plate and rearranged the utensils on it. 'I shouldn't have brought it up,' she thought ruefully._

" _It's actually one of Morgan's restoration properties. He took me there once, and I fell in love with it," she explained softly._

" _I would love to see it."_

 _Emily's head shot up, her brown eyes wide in shock. "Par…pardon me?"_

 _Elizabeth gave her an encouraging smile. "I said that I would love to see it."_

 _Emily was at a loss as to what to do. Her mother was a mass of contradictions today, and it was unsettling. "Really?" she asked dubiously._

" _Yes," the Ambassador confirmed._

" _Uh…sure," Emily said and dropped her used napkin on top of the empty plate and pushed back from the table while Elizabeth paid the bill. Together, mother and daughter left the restaurant to go tour the house._

* * *

 _The first thing Elizabeth said when she saw the row house was, "I hope you aren't planning on keeping that horrid color."_

 _Emily chuckled as she unlocked the front door. "No, I'm not. Morgan is going to take it back down to the natural brick."_

" _As in Agent Morgan?" she asked as she followed her daughter inside._

 _Emily glanced at her mother, again unsure if she was genuinely curious. "Yes. He's going to do the remodel for me." Her shoulders tensed as she waited for her mother's cutting remark._

 _But Elizabeth merely nodded. Buoyed by the Ambassador's apparent approval, Emily took her on a guided tour of her new house. As they walked through the rooms she explained the changes and additions that were planned. They ended the tour upstairs in what was going to be the master bedroom._

" _Morgan is going to finish this bedroom and the master bath first so that I'll have somewhere to stay."_

 _Elizabeth moved over to the windows. "You're not happy at Agent Rossi's?"_

" _Oh I am," she said with a small smile. "But I don't want to overstay my welcome. I'm sure he would like to have his house back to himself."_

" _He doesn't strike me as that sort of man. He's probably enjoying your company."_

" _I know his dog Mudgie certainly is," Emily joked, eliciting a soft laugh from her mother. "I just need to get back out on my own."_

" _That's understandable," Elizabeth said and gazed out the windows at the street below._

 _Emily went over to the fireplace and ran a finger over the lintel. When she had gone to restaurant, she had intended to ask her mother a question that had been on her mind since she had returned to the land of the living. Once she had gotten there, she had realized that it was a much too public of a place to have that kind of private conversation. Plus, the longer she had been forced to sit around waiting for her mother to show, she had slowly lost her nerve. But now they were alone in a rundown row house._

 _She kept her back to the Ambassador_. " _If you love me as much as you say you do then why didn't you come to my funeral?" she asked in a small voice. "I asked JJ and she said you weren't there."_

When her mother didn't answer Emily spun around, dark brown eyes filled with years of abandonment. "Were you too busy notching your political belt with another victory that you couldn't come and pay your respects to your dead daughter? Am I that unimportant to you? That I am merely a footnote in your biography?"

 _Elizabeth's shoulders hunched at the accusation. "Not at all, Lee."_

" _Then why didn't you come?" Her voice was filled with pain._

 _Her mother sank down on the window seat. She gestured for Emily to sit next to her, but her daughter refused, preferring to stand and wrapped her arms protectively around her body. Elizabeth let out a sigh and studied her hands. "I just couldn't."_

" _Why?" Emily demanded._

" _Because I couldn't bear watching them lowering you into the ground. If I came it would have become real. I would have had to face that my daughter was dead and I would never see her again. Never see her brilliant smile or hear her infectious laugh. A mother should never outlive her child." Her voice was filled with grief._

 _Elizabeth stood up and took a couple of steps toward Emily who was rooted to the spot. "By not going, I could pretend that you were still alive, off visiting some far distant corner of the world and that one day you would walk back into my life. And you did."_

 _She reached out and pulled Emily into hug. "God, I missed you so much," she cried._

 _This time Emily didn't resist. She felt her anger and hurt evaporate and sank deeper into the embrace. "I'm sorry," she said into her mother's shoulder._

" _For what?"_

" _For causing you all this grief."_

 _Elizabeth pulled back to look into her daughter's face. "There is nothing for you to apologize for, Lee. This wasn't your fault. You didn't have any control over what happened. The person who should hold blame is Agent Hotchner." The Ambassador's mouth was set in a grim line._

Emily immediately recognized that look. It was the look she got when she was about to squash someone under her heel like a bug. She was going after Hotch.

" _Mother, please don't do what I'm thinking you are planning," she begged. "Hotch was doing his best to protect me. It may not have been the way I would have chosen, but it worked. He kept me safe."_

" _But still. The pain he caused me, your team and you is inexcusable."_

" _Mother, let it go," Emily asked. "For me."_

 _Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She studied her daughter and saw in those dark brown orbs, that she always thought were beautiful, a protectiveness that spoke volumes. The team was her family and she had just threatened one of them._

" _If that is what you wish."_

" _It is."_

" _Alright," she agreed. "But if he ever hurts you again like that, I won't let him off so easily."_

" _Thank you," Emily said sincerely._

 _The two women separated with tentative smiles. Elizabeth returned to the windows and Emily remained by the fireplace. Both were at a loss to what to say or do next after that gut wrenching confession. Should they stick around a little longer or should they make a run for it before something popped up and mucked up this small victory in mending their relationship?_

 _Emily cleared her throat, making Elizabeth turn to look at her. "So what do you think?" she asked nervously, gesturing to the room in general._

 _The row house seemed liked the perfect, neutral subject to break the oppressive silence that was now hanging over their heads._

 _Elizabeth smiled. "I think it's perfect for you."_

" _I hope so," Emily said wistfully as she looked around. She desperately wanted to put down roots and have a sense of permanence._

" _Do you need anything?" her mother asked._

 _The question brought Emily back to the present. "Uh…no. All my furniture and stuff is still in storage."_

 _Elizabeth nodded, remembering that after Emily had died, she had asked Agent Jareau to pack up the apartment for her. At the time it was too painful for her to step inside for everything would have reminded her of what she had lost._

" _What about for the kitchen? I'm sure you're going to need new appliances."_

 _Emily frowned slightly. "I guess. I haven't really thought that far ahead. We haven't even started the demolition yet."_

" _Let me buy them for you," Elizabeth offered._

 _Her frown deepened. And she shook her head. "You don't need to, Mother," she demurred. "I can afford—"_

" _Lee, darling, please consider them an early house warming gift," Elizabeth entreated._

 _Emily hesitated. It was a generous gift. A very generous gift and she should refuse it. She didn't like to be beholden to anyone, especially her mother. But given the look on the Ambassador's face, she wasn't going to take no as an answer. She should just give in. Otherwise they would end up in one of those endless exchanges of yes you can, no I can't and end up mad at each other._

 _She sighed softly and ran a hand through her hair. "Thank you."_

" _You're welcome. You'll let me know when you're ready for them? We can go shopping."_

 _Emily had a hard time picturing her mother strolling down the aisles of the local Home Depot. She probably meant shopping online. "I will," she said._

 _The two women headed back downstairs and to the front door. "I had a nice time," Elizabeth said as Emily locked the door behind them._

" _I did too," she agreed, pocketing the house key. She was surprised that she had. Yes, the outing had been filled with plenty of awkward moments, but it had been a pleasing experience._

 _As they approached the parked cars, the chauffeur hopped out of one. He trotted around and held the back door open for the Ambassador. She gave him a smile, paused in the opening and turned back to Emily who was standing on the curb._

" _Shall we have lunch again in a few weeks' time?" she casually asked. They were still in the very early stage of their reconciliation so she didn't want to push Emily into setting a particular time when she wasn't ready. It was best to play it by ear and let her pick the time and place._

" _Sure," she said with a nod._

" _Promise you'll call when you have some time available? That way I'll be able to clear my schedule so there won't be a repeat of what happened earlier today."_

 _Emily could see her mother was trying. "I promise."_

* * *

Just like the remodeling of the row house, the lunch date had fallen prey to Emily's hectic work and physical therapy schedule. When she finally had some free time, she ended up on a plane with Gideon. Her mother had understood when she had called to cancel. Surprisingly they had remained on the line for another ten minutes just talking.

Emily sneaked a peek at Gideon and saw that he had fallen asleep with the magazine against his chest and the reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. This suited her just fine, making it easier for her to pretend that she was flying solo. She ordered a Coke from the Flight Attendant, retrieved one of the books she brought along from her carry on, and settled back to spend the rest of the flight reading.

* * *

 _Don't forget to the check out all the nominations and vote for your favorite stories. Last day to vote is February 29. There are a lot of good stories by great writers there. See everyone in two weeks. Until then._


	3. Chapter 3

Derek unlocked the front door to Emily's row house and stepped inside. He set his tools down and looked around, picturing in his mind what the space would look like after he ripped out all the inner walls. He liked what he saw and knew Emily had made the right choice. Since she was going to be out of the country for the next couple of days and he had some free time on his hands so he decided to start on the demolition. He was hoping he would have all the heavy lifting done by the time she got back. Derek knew she wanted to help him but he was still concerned about her shoulder because he had observed her rubbing it when she thought no one was watching. Even though the doctor had cleared her and had said the collarbone was completely healed, he didn't want her to re-injure it in any way. Emily would probably be annoyed with him for proceeding without her but there will still be plenty for her to help with.

Someone knocking on the front door snapped the dark agent out of his musing. He turned around and opened it to find two teenagers standing on the doorstep. One was a red head and the other was a muddy brown. Both boys were dressed in old looking clothes and were carrying sledgehammers.

"Agent Morgan?" the red head asked.

"Yes," Derek answered, trying to place where he had seen him before.

The teenager held out his hand. "I'm Russ Hammond—"

"Russ. Of course," Derek said, his face lighting up in recognition. So this is Emily's unofficial adoptive son. He gave the boy's hand a hardy shake. "It's a pleasure to finally to get to meet you. I heard some nice things about you."

And both were true. Even though he had learned of Russ' continued presence in Emily's life by accidentally finding the photos she carried of him, Derek knew very little about the teenager besides him being a great shortstop and having a difficult aunt. Emily was very protective of him as she was with Declan and it has gotten worse after Doyle. After the first chat, getting her to talk about the young man was like pulling teeth. It hinted that she still didn't fully trust him and he doubted that she ever would. The distrust of everyone was too deeply ingrained in her psyche to ever go away. Well, now he had the chance to get to know this boy who was important to his best friend.

"Same here, Sir," Russ said.

He was just as eager to get to know the agent. So far he had only gotten to meet Agent Rossi and he liked him a lot. Emily didn't like to talk about her work. All he knew for sure was that she worked for the BAU and who her coworkers were. She always said she liked to keep her personal life separate from her professional life. But he always suspected that it was her way of protecting him from the horrors she has witnessed while on the job. Russ was also curious about the five months she had been away but he didn't ask her because he was sure she wouldn't tell him. Maybe Agent Morgan would.

Derek grinned at the sir. "You can call me Derek," he said. "So how can I help you guys?"

"Actually we're here to help you, Age…Derek," he explained. "Emily said you were planning on gutting the inside of her new house so Jimmy and I," he gestured to his friend, "came over to see if you could use a second pair of hands."

Derek considered the offer. Having two young strong backs around would be a definite plus, especially with hauling the appliances to the dumpster out back.

"Sure but do you mind if I ask you why?"

Russ locked eyes with him. "Emily has done a lot for me over the years," he said, thinking of a particular time. "And now I want to do something for her."

* * *

 _Fifteen-year-old Russ stood nervously outside of Emily's apartment. His mind was in turmoil. He shouldn't have come here, but he had no one else he could turn to for help. He raised his hand to knock, lowered it then raised it again._

 _Just do it, he chided himself. What's the worst that could happen? She could say no, his mind told him. Or she could say yes, he shot back._

" _Well there's one way to find out," he muttered aloud and knocked three times._

 _A few anxious minutes passed before the door swung open to reveal Emily's smiling face. Her smile quickly faded when her eyes took in the troubled teenager standing on her doorstep._

" _Russ, what's wrong?" she asked in concern._

" _Ca…can I come in?" he stammered._

" _Of course," she said, stepping back and opening the door wider._

 _Russ shuffled past her with his head down, shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in his pockets. Emily closed the door and followed him. She stopped next to the kitchen island and gazed at the teenager shifting from foot to foot by the couch._

" _What's wrong?" she asked again._

 _He looked everywhere but at her and muttered something too low for her to hear. She leaned forward. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."_

" _I need to borrow some money," Russ repeated a little louder._

 _Emily sagged back against the island. Oh, god! He got a girl pregnant, was the first thought that popped into her head. She immediately flashed back to her own predicament at that same age. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. I can handle this. I have experience in this._

" _How much do you need?"_

 _He continued to stare at his feet. "Seven thousand dollars."_

 _She blinked in surprise at the amount then breathed a mental sigh of relief. No pregnancy scare, at least, but after the relief, she frowned. Why did he need that much money? That sum was perfect for buying a used car but Russ didn't know how to drive. If that was what he wanted, she wasn't going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Driving fell squarely in his Aunt Helen's domain. If she got involved in that then the fragile truce between her and the aunt would be blown out of the water._

" _Why such a large sum?" she asked._

 _This time he looked up at her and she saw the pain in his green eyes. "My father died and I want to bury him."_

 _Emily's eyes softened. "I'm so sorry, Russ."_

 _He nodded stiffly. "Aunt Helen won't pay for his funeral because she never liked him. If no one claims him, Dad will be…"_

 _He'll be buried in Potter's field with no headstone to mark his passing, she silently added. "It's yours," she said aloud._

 _Russ broke off and stared at her. "What?"_

" _I said I would pay for the funeral."_

 _He was still having difficulty comprehending that she had agreed. He had been so sure she would say no. After all Emily didn't know his father from Adam so why would she want to spend her hard earned money on him?_

" _Why?" he asked. "You don't know my Dad."_

 _Emily went over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "No, I don't," she said softly. "But I do know that he is your father. You still love him even after all the bad stuff and," she gave his shoulder a squeeze, "you want to do right by him by making sure he has a proper burial."_

" _My Aunt isn't going to be happy that you gave me the money."_

" _You leave your Aunt Helen to me."_

" _Thanks, Emily," Russ said and wrapped his arms around her._

 _She pulled him in tighter, sensing he needed some comfort. Emily still couldn't believe how much he had grown in the few short years she had known him. When she had first met him, the top of his head hit her in mid-chest, now he was as tall as she was and wasn't finished growing._

" _You're welcome, Russ. I'm glad I can help," she said in sincerity._

 _He broke the hug and took a step or two back, acting like it was undignified for him to be hugging someone at the age of fifteen._

 _Emily couldn't help but chuckle. "Just for future reference, everyone needs a good hug every now and then," she informed him._

" _I guess so," Russ said with a sheepish grin. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. "Um…is it okay with you if I handled all the arrangements?"_

" _Sure. But I'll be by your side the whole time in case you get stuck." Emily smiled fondly at him. "I think your father would be very proud of you right now."_

 _He looked up with hopeful eyes. "You think so?"_

" _I do," she said with a nod._

 _Russ gave her another sheepish smile then ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "Emily, what do I do first?"_

 _Emily took his by the arm and guided him over to the couch. "You need to select a funeral home first. From there the mortician will guide you through the steps."_

" _Do you know a good one?"_

" _Yes," she said and told him the name of the one her family has used for generations._

 _From there, Emily had let him plan his father's funeral on his own. She had taken the day off to accompany him to the funeral home and had sat by his side while he and the mortician, Mr. Wilkie, had ironed out the details. At first Mr. Wilkie had addressed all the questions to Emily, incorrectly assuming it was her loved one that had died. She had quickly disabused him of the notion, explaining that she was simply footing the bill but it was Russ' show._

 _In the end Russ had decided to keep it simple. He had forgone the visitation, since he figured his father had driven off all of his friends with his heavy drinking, and went with a graveside ceremony. With Emily's help, he had gotten a plot that wasn't far from his mother's grave. Emily had also gotten an old friend of Mr. Rossi's, a Father Jimmy, to preside over the gathering._

 _On the day of the funeral, Emily had stood next to him at the gravesite with an arm draped across his shoulders in comfort. Much to his surprise, they weren't the only ones there; several of his father's friends had come. That had made him feel a little better that other people remembered his father before his drinking days. Throughout the service, he had kept a stiff upper lip until the casket was being lowered into the grave. Suddenly he had the overwhelming urge to cry._

 _Russ turned to her, tears welling in his green eyes. "I think I could really use one of those hugs," he said with a sniffle._

 _Wordlessly, Emily took him in her arms and held him tightly as he cried his heart out._

* * *

"Emily has done a lot for me over the years and now I want to do something for her," Russ explained.

Derek could understand that. Emily was like that; always going out of the way to help others and never expecting anything back in return. Her loyalty to others was astounding; she would do anything for someone she cared for.

"I get it," he said with an understanding nod. "But be warned. This isn't going to be a walk in the park. I'm going to work the two of you really hard."

The two teenagers grinned at him. "Bring it on," Russ challenged.

* * *

Gideon wandered the lobby of the hotel François admiring the architecture and the artwork. Behind him, Emily was having an intense conversation with the front desk employee. Before today he had only heard her speak in Spanish and Russian and both times were only in a few sentences. He liked how easily the French floated off her lips as if she had been speaking it for her entire life. He snorted at his stupidity. Of course she had. She had mentioned on the jet once that she had spent a lot of her time as a child in France.

He glanced back at Emily. Now she was leaning over the counter trying to look at the computer screen. There was something different about her. But exactly what it was he couldn't put finger on. She seemed more reserved, a little less out going than he remembered and every now and then her eyes had a haunted look to them. But her body language spoke the most to him. Emily was clearly uncomfortable around him and with being back in France. From the moment she had stepped off the plane and onto French soil, she had been on edge. Gideon wondered what had happened to her in the five years since he had last seen her to make those changes.

"Merde!"

Emily's swearing broke through his reverie. Curiosity piqued, Gideon wandered back to the front desk. "What's wrong?"

She started to explain in French, caught herself and switched to English. "It seems they have lost our reservations. All they have left is a suite—"

"We'll take it," he interrupted.

Emily's eyes almost popped out of her head. "Wha…what?"

"I said we'll take the suite."

Emily took him by the arm and steered him away from the front desk and the clerk's curious ears. "I can't share a room you," she said in a low voice.

Gideon looked perplexed. "Why not? We're both adults."

"I know, but it's…it's," she groped for the right words to express her swirling thoughts and failed. "It's just not right," she finished lamely. "You take the suite and I'll try another hotel."

"Bah!" he scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's not like we'll be sharing the same bed, Prentiss. I'll sleep on the couch or on a cot."

To prevent her from arguing any further, he dragged her back to the counter and handed his credit card to the employee. "We'll take the room if it is still available."

"Indeed it is, Monsieur," she confirmed in near flawless English. "And it's one of our nicest two bedroom suites."

Gideon flashed one of his rare smiles at Emily. "Even better."

Behind him, Emily heaved a huge sigh. It looked like she was bunking with Gideon even if she didn't want to. It was obvious he wasn't going to take no for an answer. The last time she had been forced to share a room with one of her male counterparts was when she and Derek had driven back from Texas. Emily then thanked her lucky stars that the hotel clerk hadn't said it was the honeymoon suite. If it had, she would have said screwed this and left, leaving Gideon to fend for himself. There were some lines she wouldn't cross.

Ignoring her discomfort with the situation, he continued on with the check in, eventually turning to her and handing her one of the keycards. "It won't be that bad."

"We'll see," Emily muttered under her breath as she shouldered her bag and followed the ex-agent to the bank of elevators.

* * *

The room was as nice as the front desk employee had said it was. The suite was equipped with a full kitchen, dining room, half bath and a spacious sitting area. The décor was tasteful, but not over powering. The bedrooms were located on opposite sides of the suite much to Emily's relief.

"See?" Gideon said with a slight smug look, pleased that his decision had proven to be the right one. "Which one do you want?"

Emily glanced between the two room and chose the one on the right, opposite of the kitchen. She didn't know how much of an early riser he was and she didn't want to wake up to the sound of him puttering outside her door as he made something.

"Excellent." He glanced at his watch with a frown. "It's late. I'm going to bed. It was a long flight," he declared. "Our appointment with the medical examiner is at eleven o'clock. See you for breakfast at nine sharp, Prentiss."

With a curt nod, Gideon entered his bedroom and closed the door with a resounding thud, leaving Emily still standing in the middle of the room speechless.

"Nice to see that time hasn't mellowed him any," she said sarcastically as she adjourned to her room.

After shutting the door and locking it as a precaution in case Gideon had taken up sleepwalking as a new hobby, Emily dropped her bags on the queen size bed and went over to the windows. She threw back the curtains and sucked in her breath at the magnificent view that greeted her. In the distance the Eiffel Tower stood proud and straight, basking in the lights that illuminated its shape at night. Even though she had long lost count of the number of times she had seen it up close or at a distance, the tower always left her in awe. She had felt the same way when she gazed at the Washington Monument and the dome of the Capital from her old apartment.

Emily spent several minutes admiring its beauty before she finally tore her eyes away from the view. She moved her bags to the dresser and proceeded to unpack only what she needed for tomorrow. Barring any unforeseen complications, they would be flying home tomorrow night or early the next morning so why unpack everything. When she was done, Emily glanced at her watch and saw it was almost ten Paris time. Back in DC it was only five.

She knew she should call it a night like Gideon had and get some sleep, but she wasn't tired. In actuality, she was too tense from the flight, the lost reservations, sharing a hotel room with him and his brusqueness. Emily had to find a way to unwind or she would spend the night pacing and be useless in the morning. She consulted the amenities binder on the desk to see if there were any exercise faculties. Not only did the hotel have a full gym, it also had a swimming pool. A few laps would burn off her excess energy and allow her to sleep. Decision made, Emily changed into the swimsuit she had packed at the last minute, shrugged on the complimentary robe and headed out for the pool.


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later Emily returned to her room in the suite. As she quietly slipped in she could hear soft snores emanating from the other bedroom. It was nice to know some things never change, she thought wryly as she closed her door and locked it. More than once when they were on a case she had been stuck next to his room and had spent the night listening to his snoring when the walls between the rooms were paper-thin. Of course he had denied that he ever snored, as all snorers were wont to do.

She made a beeline for the shower to rinse the chlorine out of her hair and off her body. Once she had found the proper settings, Emily stepped in and sighed contently as the warm water washed over her. The time spent in the pool had done her a world of good. She was exhausted, but relaxed so she should sleep soundly tonight. Well she hoped she would, mentally crossing her fingers. Nightmares of Doyle still plagued her sleep, but they were occurring with less frequency as she continued to adjust to being home and she prayed she didn't have any while she was here in Paris with Gideon. It was one thing to have one in front of the team; it was a whole different matter to have one while in the company of a man she now considered a stranger.

Emily could have remained in the shower for hours enjoying the various setting on the showerhead, but she didn't want to turn into a wrinkled prune. Reluctantly she climbed out, toweled off and dried her hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. Then she donned her cool weather pajamas: a long sleeve dark blue Henley and a pair of blue and red plaid flannel pants.

Just as she was folding back the covers on the bed, her cell phone began to ring and skitter across the nightstand. Emily caught it just before it tumbled over the edge. She checked the screen and slowly shook her head.

"I should have known," she sighed in resignation as she thumbed the phone on and placed it against her ear. "Hey, JJ. What's up?"

" _Nothing really,"_ she replied from across the pond. _"I was just making sure you made it to Paris all right."_

"I did, even though there was that scare when one of the engines flamed out. Luckily the pilots got it to restart before we crashed into the ocean," she deadpanned.

" _Wha…what?"_ she stammered in shock. Then the line was filled with a pregnant pause. _"You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"_

Emily laughed. "Guilty as charged."

" _You really had me going there,"_ JJ scolded.

"Sorry. I couldn't resist." Emily was still chuckling. "I'm fine, JJ," she said when she stopped. "You don't have to check up on me."

" _I know, Em, but I still worry."_

"Don't. I'll be fine." She was touched by the blonde's concern. It was nice to see her in her mother hen role. "So why don't we stick to what we agreed to in the ladies room that I will call if I'm feeling overwhelmed?"

" _Okay,"_ JJ conceded. _"I'll try my best."_

Emily smiled. "That is all I'm asking."

There was a pause. _"So…how is Gideon?"_ JJ asked.

The brunette searched for the right words to describe the ex-profiler. In the end she settled for, "Gideon is Gideon. He's still brusque and aloof. We didn't talk much on the plane."

A rumbling snore followed by a snort rattled the door. "And he still snores," she said with a sigh.

" _How do you know that?"_

"Did I forget to mention that we're sharing a hotel room?"

" _What…no,"_ JJ gasped. _"Why?"_

Emily chuckled at her ability to reduce her friend to single words. "The hotel lost our reservations and all they had available was a two bedroom suite. Gideon ignored my objections and booked the suite. So here I sit listening to him snoring across the room."

JJ laughed. _"I'm so sorry, Em. You're just going to have to grin and bear it."_

"Or smother him with his own pillow tonight," she muttered darkly. Suddenly the snoring stopped prompting Emily to glance at the door with hopeful eyes. "Oh thank god! I think he rolled over."

The blonde laughed louder at her friend's discomfort. And before she could suggest that Emily buy some earplugs from the gift shop or bury her head under her pillows, a small voice rang out behind her.

" _MOMMY!"_ Henry yelled.

Emily smiled into the phone. "Uh oh. Sounds like you are being summoned. I better let you go."

" _Yeah. That's probably a good idea,"_ JJ agreed. _"Usually when he sounds like that it means he's done something that he shouldn't have. Promise to call if you are struggling?"_

"I promise. Night, JJ."

" _Night, Emily,"_ the blonde said and hung up.

Emily made a mental note as she put the phone down on the nightstand and crawled beneath the covers to pick up presents for Jack and Henry and maybe Russ before she left. She was pretty sure they would all like a little piece of France. The two younger boys would be pretty easy since they would be thrilled with any toy she brought them. Russ would take a little more thought. With that matter settled in her head, Emily turned out the light and went to sleep. She was in a deep, dreamless slumber when the snoring resumed.

* * *

Back in the States the demolition of Emily's row house concluded for the day. With the teenagers helping, Derek was able to accomplish more than he would have on his own. The first floor was completely gutted. Russ and his friend Jimmy had worked hard at tearing down and hauling away. Derek was pretty sure what they had enjoyed the most was destroying the walls with sledgehammers. Within minutes they had been covered with drywall dust and grinning from ear to ear.

As a reward for a good day's work, Derek treated the boys to pizza and pop. He sat back in one of the lawn chairs set in the middle of the gutted first floor and watched the teenagers inhale two of the three pizzas and half of the a two liter bottle of pop. He shook his head in amusement wondering where they were putting it. _They must have hollow legs or something,_ he thought. Then he remembered his mother saying numerous times that if he didn't stop growing he was going to eat her out of house and home. He chuckled at the memory, prompting both teens to glance at him in curiosity.

"It's nothing," he said, answering their unspoken question.

The two teenagers shrugged at each other and returned to their pizza devouring. A few minutes later Jimmy's pants dinged. He fished out his phone, glanced at the text and gave his friend an apologetic look.

"It's Amber…" he trailed off.

"Go," Russ said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll take the subway or catch the bus."

"You sure?"

"Positive. I'll see you back at the dorm."

Jimmy grinned in relief. "Thanks, man. See ya," he said and hurried off to meet up with his girlfriend.

The redhead helped himself to the last piece of pizza in the box. "When Amber texts, he jumps."

Derek chuckled. "That's the way it's supposed to be," he explained, taking a sip of his beer. "You dating anyone?"

Russ shook his head as he topped off his glass of pop. "Nope. Don't have time with classes, my job and baseball. You?" he asked, downing half in a giant gulp.

"Nope. My job takes up most of my time. I barely get enough time to sleep. Emily said you're attending Georgetown on a baseball scholarship. That was how I got into Northwestern. Only mine was for football."

"Didn't you want to go pro?" Russ asked in curiosity, thinking about the baseball scouts that had been sniffing around and urging him to enter the draft.

"I did then I blew out my knee, effectively ending my football career. So I focused all my energy on obtaining my degree."

"What was it?"

"Law," Derek said with a grin. "What are you planning on majoring in?"

The teenager shrugged. "I don't know yet. For now I'm taking all the required basic classes. I'm hoping one will really jump out at me."

"Don't rush it if you're unsure. You have a couple of years before you have to declare a major."

"That's what Emily said."

Derek finished off his beer and set the empty on the scarred wooden floor next to his chair. "You should listen her. Emily's a smart woman."

"She is," Russ agreed with a nod. If she hadn't gotten involved in his life and got him on the right track, he doubted he would have gotten into college. Right now he would have been stuck in a dead end job making minimum wage.

Fiddling with his cup in the moment of quiet, Russ couldn't help but think about something that had been on his mind lately. Actually since he found out Emily was still alive. Derek was the perfect person to ask and he took the opportunity to do so. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Kid. What's on your mind?"

Suddenly he was very nervous about asking. He took a deep breath and spit it out. "I was wondering if you could tell me about those five months Emily was gone. I just want to know why she had to fake her death."

Derek blinked. That wasn't the question he had been expecting and he wasn't sure he should even be talking about it. "Russ, I don't think it's my place to answer. You should really ask Emily about it."

"I've tried several times," he said in frustration. "But she always changes the subject."

"It was a difficult time for her. You know she is a very private person."

"I do," Russ sighed. "I'm sorry I bothered you with it."

Derek could tell by the look on the teenager's face that he hadn't been asking out of simple curiosity. He genuinely cared about her, not as a friend does for a friend, but as a son does for his mother. He picked up his beer, went to take a sip and realized it was still empty. Maybe he could give the boy a very watered down version and then tell Emily about it so she wouldn't be blindsided if Russ were to ask again.

"Okay, here's the deal. I'll give you the basics. If you want more details then you will have to ask her, but don't be surprised if she refuses to answer. You cool with that?"

"I am."

Now how does he word it without going into greater detail? "A man Emily helped to put in prison escaped and came after her. He almost killed her, but in the end he got away."

He was still kicking himself for not getting there sooner to capture Doyle. If he had, Emily never would have gone into hiding and would have had her friends and family at her side while she recuperated.

"To protect Emily while she recovered from her injuries, she was placed in the witness protection program."

Russ nodded. "And this guy who hurt her, did you catch him?"

"We did and he's dead."

Deep in thought the teenager wondered how Emily had felt about that. "Good," he said clearly and profoundly.

From the way the young man's eyes flashed when he had said 'good', Derek knew he was glad Doyle was dead. And so was he. If Emily hadn't killed him as they had fought, he would have.

"Satisfied?"

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for telling me, Derek."

"Just remember what I said about asking Emily if you have more questions. Make sure you tell her the real reason why you're asking. Don't say I'm just curious. That would make her shut down."

"I will," Russ promised. He glanced at his watch. "I better get going. Thanks for letting me help with the demo."

Derek stood up when he did. "If you want I can give you a lift back to your dorm."

"Nah, that's okay. I'll just take the subway."

"No problem, Russ. Thanks for pitching in. You and your friend were a big help."

"I had fun." The teenager made his way to the door. There he paused and turned around, a hopeful look on his face. "Would it be all right with you if I came back to help when I could? I've always been sort of interested in remodeling. The closest I've come to it was the woodworking class I took senior year."

Derek grinned. Here was a kid after his own heart. "Sure. Are you available tomorrow evening? I was planning on gutting the basement."

"I sure am," Russ said eagerly. "I can be here whenever you need me."

"Six works for you?"

"Sure thing, Derek. See you tomorrow."

Russ disappeared through the door before Derek had a chance to say goodbye. Emily had over the years molded that boy into a fine young man. Now it was his turn to add a little spit and polish.

* * *

Emily awoke refreshed the next morning and ready to face a day with Gideon. It was going to harder for him than her. He had the unlucky job of identifying his nephew's body while all she had to do was to translate if necessary. She took a quick shower, got dressed and was down in the dining room promptly at nine. On her way out of the suite she hadn't bothered to check if he was still in his room because she knew he wasn't. If he stuck to old habits, he would have arrived ten minutes before the appointed time and he had. Gideon was at a table by the windows, cup of coffee in front of him and frowning at the newspaper in his hand. Emily made a slight detour before joining him.

"This might work better," she suggested, handing him a copy of the English version of the New York Times International. "Since you can't speak French I doubt you can read that other one."

"Thanks, Prentiss." Gideon flipped through the pages until he found the daily crossword puzzle. He pulled out a pen and commenced to solve it.

She nodded as she sat down in one of the vacant chairs. "Have you ordered yet?" she asked, perusing the menu.

"No. I was waiting for you."

"Then I'll be quick about it."

Emily made her selection and signaled for the waitress. Once their orders had been placed silence fell over their table. Gideon was focused on his puzzle so Emily picked up the copy of Le Parisien the most neutral of the daily newspapers and started reading. The only time he looked up was when the waitress refreshed his coffee and brought Emily her orange juice.

"No coffee?" he asked with a frown, remembering she always had a cup with breakfast.

"I gave it up. Trying to relax more," she replied, giving him the same excuse she had given Derek when he had asked about it one time. It wasn't anybody's business that coffee and her ulcer hadn't gotten along.

"Ah," he said with a nod and returned to his puzzle for which Emily was extremely thankful.

When their meals arrived Gideon attempted to focus on his own, but his eyes wandering over to Emily. Like yesterday he noticed subtle changes in her. Once a profiler always a profiler no matter how long you have been out of the game. She seemed more vulnerable and reserved, less out going. And though Emily didn't realize she was doing it she was hyper aware of her surroundings. When she had sat down at the table she had chosen the chair that was crammed up against the wall like she wanted to protect her back. She was also glancing up periodically while eating to scope out the room.

Gideon was never shy about voicing his opinion. "You've changed."

Emily's eyes shot up from her plate. "Pardon?" she asked in confusion.

"I said you've changed."

She quickly masked her annoyance. "Time changes everyone," she said flatly. "Look at you," referring to his scruffy beard, unruly hair and paunch.

"Physically, yes. But not like this. Things like that, changes in mannerisms and quirks, they only happen when someone goes through something and it weighs on them. Something traumatic, perhaps?" he hinted.

She locked eyes with him. "My personal life is none of your business, Gideon. Leave it," she warned.

 _I've hit a nerve_ , he thought and quickly backed down. "I'm sorry, Prentiss. I didn't mean to intrude."

She nodded and turned her attention back to her meal even though she was no longer hungry. Gideon's unwanted probing had hit too close to home for her comfort and ruined the good mood she was in. Emily didn't need any more reminders, even accidental ones, of how messed up she was after Doyle. The city of her exile was doing a good job of it all on its own.

* * *

The same awkward silence that had descended on the table tagged along on the cab ride to the Instit Medico-Legal where his nephew Noah's body was being kept. It also joined them in the waiting area as they waited for the attendant to arrive and guide them to the morgue proper.

Emily decided to be the first to break it. "Is there something in particular you want me to do?" she asked, having a little flashback to the first case they worked together.

"Just listen and observe. I don't want them to know you can speak French. I want them to think we are two dumb Americans and speak more freely in front of us."

"You want me to eavesdrop on them?" she asked with a dubious look.

"I do."

"May I ask why?"

Gideon crossed his arms. "I believe there is still some corruption within the Paris police force so I don't fully trust them to tell me the truth. They're only going to tell us what they think we want to hear."

Emily's eyes narrowed in suspicion. That wasn't an answer. There was something he was holding back. She could feel it in her bones. But before she could ask about what he wasn't telling her, the attendant entered the room.

"Monsieur. Mademoiselle," he said with a polite smile. "If you would follow me."

After casting Gideon a second suspicious look, they followed the man down the long corridor to a set of double doors. He opened one and gestured for them to enter. The overwhelming smell of decomp smacked Emily in the face the second she stepped through the door and she swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.

 _God! I hate floaters_ , she thought as she resisted pinching her nose closed. They were the worst. They smelled and looked horrible. _Breathe through your mouth like Reid told you. Breathe through your mouth._ Next to her Gideon coughed to cover his gag reflex.

Three men stood on the other side of the sheet-draped gurney. Two were dressed in the uniform of the Police Nationale and the other in scrubs. The taller of the two officers detached from the group.

"I'm Capitaine Dubois," he said in flawless English, holding out his hand. "You must be Jason Gideon and…" He looked at her expectedly.

"Emily Prentiss," she volunteered, shaking hands with him. "I'm—"

"A friend of the family," Gideon smoothly interjected. Emily kept the surprise off her face.

The Capitaine didn't seem to notice. "I apologize for dragging both of you across the ocean to our fine city for such a gruesome task."

"I understand."

Emily chose to remain silent and fade into the background where she would be able to observe the Capitaine and his unnamed Lieutenant. As much as Gideon had been annoying her this morning, she didn't envy him for what he was about to do.

"I'm afraid your nephew's body is not in the best of shape. The Coroner believes he was submerged in the Seine for several days. The marine life was active so we were unable to take fingerprints or do a facial comparison with his passport."

"I see," Gideon said with a grave nod.

"Did you bring the dental records that we requested? It is just a formality," Dubois said quickly. "It's like that American saying, we have to dot all the I's and cross the T's."

"I did and its not a problem." He handed over the manila envelope he had been carrying since they left the hotel. "How did he die? Drowning?"

Dubois exchanged looks with the other two men. "It was murder, Monsieur Gideon. He was strangled and his body dumped into the river. There wasn't any water in his lungs."

"So he was dead before he hit the water."

"Oui."

"May I see him?"

"Of course." The Capitaine nodded to the man in scrubs who scurried over to the gurney. With great care he folded back the sheet to expose the head and shoulders.

Gideon slowly approached the gurney with his hands clasped behind his back, the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown. He stared at the corpse with such intensity it looked like he was trying to memorize his late nephew's face. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"It's not him."

* * *

 _I want to thank everyone who nominated and voted for my last story 'The Perfect Storm' during this years Profiler Choice Awards. I was stunned that it won for Best Characterization of Emily Prentiss. It means a lot to me to know I have some very loyal readers out there. Thank you._


	5. Chapter 5

"It's not him," Gideon announced gravely.

Four pairs of shocked eyes turned in his direction. "What?" "Quoi?"

"It's not my nephew," he repeated.

Emily stepped closer. "Gideon, how can you be so sure? His face is unrecognizable."

"Mademoiselle Prentiss is right," Capitaine Dubois agreed.

Gideon pointed to the corpse's left shoulder. "Noah has a half moon shaped birthmark on his shoulder. This poor man doesn't."

The Capitaine and his Lieutenant exchanged worried looks and began conversing in rapid French. Gideon had been right about the police. They had assumed incorrectly that neither could speak French so they felt secure in talking in front of them.

Emily peered closer at the puffy shoulder, trying to see any evidence of a birthmark. All she saw pale skin. When she looked up at Gideon, she was surprised to see that he didn't appear to be relieved that it wasn't his nephew. Instead he seemed calm and detached, almost to the point of being clinical about the whole situation. Before she had a chance to question him, the Capitaine approached.

"Monsieur Gideon, I must apologize for bringing you all the way over here for nothing. We were so certain it was the body of your nephew."

Gideon dismissed the apology with a shrug. "No harm done. I still needed to confirm that it wasn't him. Would you mind if I looked at his backpack? I just want to verify everything in it is his."

Dubois glanced at the Lieutenant and then nodded. "I see no problem with that. Unfortunately, it is not here. It's back at my office. But if you can stop by around three, I will be glad to let you take a look. Of course, I can't allow you to remove anything since the backpack and its contents are evidence in an active murder investigation."

"Of course, Capitaine. Completely understandable," Gideon agreed holding out his hands.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" he asked after a brief moment of hesitation.

"Not at all."

"Merci. When was the last time you had spoken to your nephew?"

"I do believe it was the day of his graduation from college."

Emily's eyes narrowed ever so slightly in suspicion. Something in his answer rang false with her.

"He never called you while he was here in Paris?"

Gideon shook his head. "Noah spoke to his mother, my sister, a week before your death notification."

"I see." Dubois held out his hand. "If you do hear from your nephew, please let us know. We have a few questions for him in regards to how our victim ended up with his backpack."

"I will," Gideon said, shaking the proffered hand.

"Merci. Good day Monsieur Gideon and Mademoiselle Prentiss." He also shook hands with Emily before letting the attendant guide the two back to out to the waiting room and the exit outside.

* * *

Out on the sidewalk, Emily grabbed Gideon by the arm. "You knew before looking at the body that it wasn't your nephew," she hissed in annoyance.

Gideon stared over the highway at the barge chugging its way up the Seine, ignoring her hand and angry tone. He inhaled deeply, using the fresh air to clear his lungs of the smell of decomposing flesh.

"Walk with me," he abruptly announced, walking down the sidewalk.

Emily stared at his departing back, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Then she muttered a mild curse under her breath and hurried after him. In silence they walked along the Voie Mazas until they came to a set of stairs. Without saying a word, they agreed to go up them and found themselves in the Square A. Tournaire, a small heavily wooded park behind the Institut Medico-Legal.

"Enough!" Emily declared, stopping dead in her tracks when they were in a secluded spot. "Gideon, you knew before we even went in that it wasn't Noah."

Gideon turned to face her and shrugged. "I had my suspicions."

"You had your suspicions?" she echoed in disbelief. "How?"

"A few days ago I got a text from an unknown number that read, _I'm in trouble_."

Emily resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his head fell off. Instead, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. The temperatures this time of year hovered in the mid-forties.

"How do you know for certain the text was from him? You just said you didn't recognize the number. Anyone could have sent it."

"It was addressed to Uncle Jase. Noah is the only one who calls me that."

"And how do you know someone else couldn't have known that?"

"What would be the logic behind that?" Gideon asked in genuine confusion.

"Your judgment is clouded. You're seeing what you want to see. I'm not saying it wasn't Noah who sent that, but there are other possibilities that you need to consider."

"Like what, Prentiss?"

Emily blew out a breath of frustration. "How am I supposed to know? Apparently there's a lot more to this that you have neglected to tell me," she said pointedly.

He held out his hands in apology. "There's nothing left to tell. You know everything."

 _God this man is so irritating_ , she thought as she tried not to yell at him. _How was I ever able to work with him?_ "Then why didn't you let me in on your little secret? I don't like being blindsided."

Gideon dismissed her complaint with a shrug. "I wanted your reaction to be genuine."

"My…my reaction?" she stammered, staring at him like he had grown a second head. "Why?"

"I told you, I don't trust the police. We could have shown our hand if both of us had known." He had no clue why she was getting upset. His reasoning was sound and logical.

This time Emily couldn't keep the outrage from creeping into her voice. "You dragged me all the way over here just to put on a performance for the flics because you don't trust them?" She threw up her hands in disgust. "Unbelievable."

"No," he corrected. "I asked you to come because I needed your help. I need your help to find Noah."

"But I don't have any jurisdiction here," she protested.

"True. But you know the city, the people, and the language. You said you spent a majority of your childhood here."

"I did." Emily took several deep breaths to calm down. It wouldn't do her any good yelling at him. Gideon seemed impervious to it. All she was accomplishing was giving herself a second ulcer after she had finally got rid of the first one. "Gideon, why didn't you tell me all of this the first time?" she finally asked softly.

"I was afraid you wouldn't agree to come," he said frankly.

That gave Emily some pause. Would she have said yes? He had mysteriously reappeared in her life after five years of silence and, to be perfectly honest, she didn't know him very well nor he her. But what she did know for certain was that he was brusque, condescending and lacked manners at times. Yet he cared deeply about the victims and it was obvious he cared just as deeply for his nephew. He only went about it the wrong way. Emily really couldn't fault him on that even though it annoyed the hell out of her. But in the end, it all boiled down to that he was still a member of the BAU family and you help family.

"I would have said yes," Emily said sincerely.

Gideon studied her before nodding. "Thank you, Prentiss. I appreciate your honesty."

Of course he didn't apologize since he still believed he had done nothing wrong. Emily decided to be a good sport and ignore it. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair. "Okay. I'll help you find Noah, but from this point on there won't be any more lying and secrets. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

She looked around the park. "Let's find a place to sit down and talk. I could really use a drink right now."

* * *

They left the park, crossed the Quai de la Rapee and made their way along Avenue Ledru-Rollin. They found a small café and settled at one of the outside tables. Gideon noted Emily deliberately chose the chair that put her back to the brick wall.

Emily held up her thumb and index finger as the waiter approached. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Deux cafés, s`il vous plait." He nodded and went to fill their order.

Gideon leaned back in his chair. "I thought you said you gave up coffee?"

She gave him the stink eye and retorted, "I changed my mind." He chuckled but said nothing more.

They sat in silence while they waited for their café noirs. The service was quick and efficient. Within minutes they had their coffees and the bill. Gideon arched an eyebrow at the little piece of paper.

"Don't worry about that," Emily said dismissively as she dropped several sugar cubes into her coffee and stirred it. "They're not trying to kick us out. We've ordered drinks so we can linger for an hour or two." There was also a square of chocolate on the saucer that she planned to save for last.

"Interesting," he said and took a sip of the dark, fragrant, medium-dark roast. "Very strong," he coughed.

Emily grinned. "Try adding some sugar." He nodded and stirred in some. "Better?" she asked when he took a second sip.

"Yes."

She leaned forward, resting her folded hands on the table. It was considered bad manners to keep your hands in your lap. They must be visible during the meal, but that didn't mean you could lean on your elbows. "Tell me about Noah."

Gideon smiled fondly. "He's my sister's youngest and I must admit, my favorite. He's a lot like me, but more outgoing. He just graduated from Cornell with a degree in architecture."

Emily nodded. "That's what? A five year program?"

"It is but he managed to complete it in four years. He really put his nose to the grindstone to graduate early so that's why he decided to take a year off to explore Europe. Then he was planning on going back to get his masters."

"To clear his head and enjoy the architecture?"

"Yes," he agreed, sipping his café. It wasn't bad once he got used to the strength.

So Noah was book smart, but Emily had to wonder if he was street savvy. He was no longer a teenager, but he was still young and immature in many ways.

"Would he be smart enough to stay out of trouble, not get pulled into something illegal because it sounded like fun?" She hated asking the question, but it needed to be done.

Gideon took a few minutes to think about it, frowning slightly as he did so. "I believe so," he said eventually. "I would say he's more cautious than impulsive, but he can be very passionate about things he believes in."

She nodded. That could be bad if he let his heart lead instead of his head. "This trip," she said. "Is it solo or did he come with a couple of his college buddies?"

"Alone."

"Merde!" she swore, inadvertently reverting to French and causing Gideon to smile. "So we don't have anyone to contact to find out when they saw him last and how he was acting."

"I'm afraid not. But if we could gain access to his cell phone records we could see who he called before his disappearance," he hinted, arching a knowing eyebrow.

Emily was about to suggest checking his phone, but remembered it was in the custody of the police and she highly doubted they would let them take a peek at it. So they would have to go at it from a different direction. She finished her coffee and set the empty cup back on top of the saucer.

"I'll have to ask Hotch for permission to use Garcia. I don't want to get her in trouble for doing something unofficial on business time especially since this isn't a BAU case."

"Not a problem," he readily agreed, knowing the technical analyst was the best bet at the moment.

"And we can have her pull up his credit card statements. That could narrow down which arrondissement he's been in and we can start searching for him from there."

"Arrondissements?"

"Districts," she translated. "Paris is divided into twenty administrative districts. We're currently in the twelfth."

"Interesting," he said with a nod of his head. "Learned something new."

"Indeed."

"Once we know which one, we can check out the hotels."

Emily laughed. "You've never backpacked your way across Europe have you, Gideon?"

He frowned in confusion. "No. Why?"

"When you're young and don't have a lot of money, you don't go stay in a hotel. You go to a hostel. They are a lot cheaper and you can hang out with people your own age. Old fogeys like us stay in hotels and pay through the nose for the amenities," she finished with a chuckle.

"I didn't know that."

"Now you've learned two things in less than ten minutes," she teased, feeling more relaxed around the ex-profiler. Maybe it was the coffee or the atmosphere of sitting at a sidewalk café in Paris. It's the coffee, she decided. God, she missed the stuff.

"I have," Gideon chuckled. "Would these hostels show up on his credit card?"

"Probably in this day and age. It's safer than carrying a large amount of Euro's and you get a better exchange rate with a card."

Speaking of cards, Emily pulled out hers to pay the bill. If Gideon was footing the bill for the airline tickets and hotel, she could at least pay for the drinks. As she added a few Euros as an additional tip to the one already included in the bill, she said, "Let's head back to the hotel. I prefer to make the call in private."

"Sure," Gideon agreed and finished off the last of his coffee.

As they waited for the server to return with her credit card, Emily popped the piece of chocolate in her mouth and almost sighed out loud at how good it tasted. It just melted on her tongue.

"There's one thing I don't like about the whole situation. Noah is mugged and robbed of his backpack. Then the mugger is killed before he has a chance to remove the valuables. The killer, in turn, dumps the body and the backpack in the Seine."

"You think he would have known that the body would have eventually been found and identified through the belongings."

"Or he simply didn't care. Either way, there are too many coincidences for my liking," Emily said with a grimace.

"Same here." Gideon stared off down the street. "Noah, what have you gotten yourself into?"

* * *

In the comfort of their hotel suite, Emily sat at the table jotting down the highlights of her chat with Gideon on the legal pad she had picked up on the taxi ride back while he retreated to his room to call his sister. Emily wanted to get everything down while it was fresh in her mind. Her laptop or tablet would have been preferable, but she hadn't packed them since it was supposed to have been a quick trip here and back so she had to make do with what she could find. As she wrote in the illegible scrawl that only she could read, Emily felt her pulse quicken at the prospect of working on a case. She paused mid-word and mentally scolded herself. Gideon's nephew wasn't a case. She was simply here to help an old co-worker. But Noah's whereabouts and actions were a mystery, and she couldn't resist a mystery that needed solving. Who could?

She had filled three pages with facts, observations, further questions and possible lines of investigation and was working her way through the fourth when he returned. Gideon donned his reading glasses, picked up one of the sheets of paper and squinted at it.

"Can you even read this?"

"Yes, I can," she huffed, giving him a dirty look and snatching the paper out of his hand. "How did the call go?"

"It went alright," he said, settling into an empty chair. "Rachel was relieved to know that Noah wasn't dead, but is still upset we don't know where he is. She's thinking the worse that he's out there alone, hurt and scared."

"That's what mothers do," Emily said while at the same time wondering how many times her mother had those same thoughts over the years. "Did your sister know if Noah might have hooked up with any fellow travelers? He might have dropped a few names while talking."

"Rachel did say he mentioned a Sven, Dieter and Rolf."

Possibly two Germans and a Scandinavian. "Any last names?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Last names would have been a big help. Trying to find three particular boys by their first names only in a city with over two million people would be near to impossible. There was also the possibility one or all of them were no longer in town.

"Needle meet haystack," Emily muttered and glanced down at her list of questions. It felt odd interviewing Gideon as the family of the possible victim. "When your sister—"

"Rachel. You can call her Rachel."

Emily nodded. "When Rachel last talked to Noah, how did he sound? Was he anxious? Stressed? Was he dropping hints that he was in some sort of trouble because he was afraid to tell her?"

"I asked her that and many more questions," he said. "And her answer to all of them was an emphatic no. Their conversation was normal. He was enjoying Paris and was thinking of staying longer."

"How often did they talk? Daily? Every other day? Weekly or longer?" She probed.

"Weekly or a little longer."

"So she wouldn't suspect anything was wrong if she didn't hear from him for a week or two," Emily stated more than asked, idly rubbing her right shoulder in the general area of her collarbone.

"Not at all," he agreed.

Emily tossed her pen down in frustration. "So all we know is that everything was hunky dory up to the time of Noah's last talk with his mother. Then something happened between then and your cryptic text message." She blew out a breath. "Maybe he witnessed the murder?"

Gideon frowned thoughtfully. "That is a definite possibility, but I feel there is something bigger going on that kept him silent for almost two weeks."

"I do too." She rubbed her shoulder again.

His frown deepened. "Prentiss, is there something wrong with your shoulder?" he asked. He had noticed during their conversation, she had been massaging it on and off.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

He nodded at her hand that had stilled on her shoulder. "You've been rubbing your shoulder."

Emily looked at the offending hand and dropped it into her lap. "Uh…my collarbone aches when I'm frustrated. I broke it awhile back."

"How?" he asked in curiosity.

She debated if she should tell him any more beyond that. It was really none of his business, but she had feeling he wasn't going to let this go easily. So she decided to toss him a bone and hoped he would chew on it for a long time.

"I took a bullet in the shoulder."

"Ah…that explains why you were at the pool. I never took you to be a swimmer."

"It was part of my physical therapy," she responded slowly with guarded eyes.

Gideon had just confirmed he had been the one spying on her at the gym. The thought made her wonder how long he had been following her before she had confronted him. And what was more troubling… why she hadn't caught on to it earlier. A few months ago she was hyperaware of her surroundings and now…

"God, I'm going soft," she muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

Emily looked up. "Nothing," she said quickly to cover her slip of the tongue. Time to change the direction of the conversation. "Perhaps we should call Hotch now."

Gideon frowned. "Isn't it a bit early?"

She glanced at her watch. It was a little after two so it would be eight back home. "If Hotch is being his predictable self, he'll be there."


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch was, indeed, his predictable self and answered his office phone on the third ring. He had been in the process of shrugging off his overcoat when it rang. _"Agent Hotchner,"_ he said briskly into the handset.

"Hey, Hotch. It's Emily," she said as soon as she heard his voice. She put her phone on speaker and set it on the table between her and Gideon.

 _"_ _Prentiss. How was your flight?"_

"Not bad. Took off, landed safely. The usual."

A soft chuckle could be heard. _"Good. I assume you're not calling just to say hello. What can I do for you?"_

"Well…" she hesitated, spinning the pen in lazy circles on top of the legal pad. "I need a little help."

There was a pause. _"Okay. What do you need from me?"_

"I really just need an okay from you."

 _"_ _For what?"_

"I would like to borrow Garcia if I can. I won't monopolize her, but I could really use her skills on this."

Hotch's voice was all business now. _"Is there something going on?"_

"Nothing to worry about…" Yet, was silently added and heard by everyone. "The good news is that it isn't Gideon's nephew they have in the morgue. The bad news is that no one has heard from him, except for one cryptic text message that said 'I'm in trouble' that Gideon received a few days ago."

Emily shot him a dirty look, telling him that she still wasn't happy about being kept in the dark. Gideon just shrugged. "It was an unfamiliar number."

 _"_ _Do the police have any idea to the identity of the corpse?"_

"I have no clue. When we left they were still reeling from Gideon's little bombshell." Another dirty look cast his way. "They just assumed it was Noah based on the identification found in the backpack the body had been wearing when they had fished him out of the Seine."

 _"_ _How did the body end up with Noah's backpack?"_

It was her turn to shrug. "We're assuming it was stolen."

Hotch's eyebrows rose. _"And then the thief drowned?"_

"Actually, Hotch, it was murder. He was strangled."

 _"_ _Interesting."_

 _Interesting to say the least_ , Emily thought ruefully. "I was hoping to have Garcia pull up Noah's cell phone and credit card records. They would help pinpoint where he was last in Paris and we can start looking there."

 _"_ _You're going to stay and help Gideon with the search?"_

Emily thought Hotch sounded supportive, but decided to cover all her bases on the off chance he wasn't. "If that is okay with you? I know I don't have any personal or vacation days saved up, but I can't, in good conscience, leave Gideon to do it on his own. He's unfamiliar with the city and doesn't speak a word of French. But if you need me back, I'll catch the first flight out."

 _"_ _There's no need to do that,"_ he reassured her. _"Take all the time you need. I've got you covered. Finding Noah should be your focus."_

"Thanks, Hotch," she said in relief.

 _"I'll have Garcia call you when she gets in. But I do have to caution you that an actual case takes priority. Right now he's just a possible missing person and the Paris Police jurisdiction."_

"I know. Any help will be appreciated. The quicker we find Noah, the quicker we can come home." Home. The word set a warm feeling and a yearning through her body. Washington DC had finally become her permanent home and she couldn't wait to get back.

Hotch must have sensed it. There was a momentary silence before he tentatively broached the subject. _"So, Emily…how are you doing with being back in Paris after everything?"_

Emily sat up straighter and stared in a mixture of shock and surprise at the phone. She had forgotten to tell Hotch that she had him on speaker and he had just aired a personal question for everyone to hear. Her eyes darted to Gideon, hoping he hadn't detected the concern in the Unit Chief's voice and that he had called her Emily and not Prentiss like he normally did. He had. Gideon sat across from her with a curious look.

"Excuse me," she said quickly, tapping the screen on the phone to turn off the speaker function before snatching it up and retreating to her bedroom.

"I'm fine, Hotch," Emily said as she closed the door behind her.

 _"_ _Emily…"_ he cautioned.

She sighed and ran her free hand through her hair. "I'm doing okay. I've had mixed reactions to being here. When I first got here, the city was a stranger to me. All I felt was the isolation of my exile. But as I took in the sights, sounds and smells, Paris was like my old friend. Does that make any sense to you? It sounded like I was babbling like an idiot."

 _"You weren't and I understand. Your good and bad memories of the city are battling it out for domination and hopefully the good ones will win out and you can enjoy your time there. Remember what I told you at the office?"_

"To call you day or night if I'm having a bad day."

 _"Right. I'm here to listen."_

"Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it." Emily glanced at the closed bedroom door, hearing the heavy footsteps of Gideon approaching. "I have to go. Gideon's coming to knock me up. Bye," she said and hung up.

* * *

Hotch was still frowning at the handset when Dave walked into his office. "Who was that?" he asked in curiosity, taking a sip of his freshly brewed morning coffee.

"Prentiss…" he trailed off.

"And?" he prompted.

"She just said something strange. She said Gideon was going to knock her up."

Dave almost choked on his coffee as his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Well that is unexpected."

Hotch's frown deepened. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Good for her?"

It was only later when Emily returned did they learn what she had meant. Of course they had to wait for Emily to stop laughing first. She had found it hysterical that they had thought she and Gideon had done it. It turned out to be how the British would give you a wake up call by knocking on the door when there was no phone in the room.

* * *

Emily threw open the door just as Gideon raised his hand to 'knock her up'. "Yes?"

He lowered the hand he was about to knock on the door with. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What's that?" she asked cautiously, having a good idea what it was about and not wanting to discuss it with him.

Gideon always considered her a straight shooter and got right to the point. There was none of that beating around the bushes crap. "On the phone with Hotch, he seemed concerned about your mental state. Is there something I need to know?"

Emily rebuked him. "He's a boss concerned about his agent returning to a city she had a lot of history with growing up. It's nothing more than that."

"Seems like more to me. You've been uncomfortable since we landed."

"Well, it wasn't and maybe I'm uncomfortable because I'm with you."

He stepped into her personal space and she instinctively took one back. "Prentiss, you have to be straight with me. If there is something going on, I have a right to know about it."

She pushed past him and made her way to the table where she began to shuffle her notes together. "No, Gideon, you don't."

Gideon followed hot on her heels. "I beg to differ. We're here in a foreign country searching for my missing nephew. If you're unstable or there is some bad blood here, then I need to know about it so I can be prepared."

Emily bristled at the idea that he thought she was unstable, but she managed to rein in her temper and kept the anger out of her voice. "There's nothing to be prepared for. I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."

"I can call Hotch and see what he has to say," he threatened.

"You do that. I'm sure he'll give you an earful," she said sarcastically, slapping one hand down on the table. "Why do you even care? You disappeared and cut us all out of your life years ago. Why do you suddenly want insight into mine? It's none of your damn business."

"You're right," Gideon agreed, taking a step back and holding up his hands up in surrender. He needed her help so he couldn't afford to piss her off. She could easily hop the next flight for home and leave him high and dry. But that didn't mean he would give up on uncovering her secret. If it was going to have an effect on his search for Noah, he had to know. "I apologize."

She stared hard at him and then nodded that she accepted his apology. Emily decided to chalk up his nosiness to his worry about his nephew's welfare and the helplessness he was feeling. She was just a convenient target for his prying. Emily turned her focus to the papers she had been absently straightening during their heated exchange and a notation caught her attention. She picked up the sheet and reread what she had written.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Capitaine said they had Noah's passport?"

"You would be correct," Gideon confirmed, crossing his arms and wondering where she was going with this.

"He's going to need one to get back into the States."

"So he would have to get a replacement."

"Right and he would have to go—"

"To the U.S. embassy to get it," he finished for her. "And we can contact them to find out if he applied for a new one."

Emily made a face. "I don't know. They may not release that information to you even if you are family and acting on your sister's behalf."

"It never hurts to try."

"True. But I have a better idea." She whipped out her phone and dialed the number, making sure not to put it on speaker this time. She didn't want a repeat of Hotch's conversation.

* * *

Across the ocean, Elizabeth Prentiss set down the morning paper and checked the screen on her cell phone before answering. It was her private number and very few people had it, but telemarketers still managed to get through from time to time. A wave of worry washed through her when she saw Emily's number. Before her daughter had flown to Paris, they had made arrangements that if they needed to contact each other, they would call in the evening Paris time. Emily calling in the afternoon was an abnormality.

Elizabeth didn't even bother with saying hello. "Lee, what's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need me to come over there?"

Emily's endearing chuckle wafted over the line. _"Hello to you too, Mom. And to answer your questions in order: nothing, I'm fine and definitely not."_

Her mother breathed a sigh of relief that everything seemed to be okay, but she couldn't help double-checking. Her daughter often hid her pain and insecurities behind 'I'm fine'. "Are you sure?"

Emily turned her back on Gideon and whispered into the phone. _"Positive, Mom."_

Behind her, Gideon noted Emily's use of 'mom' instead of 'mother'. During the time they had worked together, she had never mentioned her parents until that day when the Ambassador had breezed into the BAU like she owned the place. He had witnessed their awkward greeting, and though they had shown a united front for the team, he had sensed the tension in both that hovered just below the surface. Emily only referred to her as mother or Ambassador Prentiss. Mom was something new.

"Okay. But if there's ever anything I can do for you, I want to be there. I want to help you."

 _"Well, maybe there is something you can do for me."_

Elizabeth latched on to it, interpreting that something was still wrong with her daughter. "So you're not alright?"

Emily briefly refrained from rolling her eyes. Everyone was afraid she was going to have a mental breakdown by simply stepping onto French soil. First it was JJ, then Hotch and now her mother. If one more person asked her if she was okay, she was going to scream or shoot them if they were physically standing in front of her.

 _"_ _I am, Mom. Really,"_ she said, successfully keeping the exasperation out of her voice. _"I just need a favor."_

"Name it."

 _"Can you check with the embassy here to see if Gideon's nephew applied for a replacement passport? I would have tried, but I was afraid that they might give me the run around."_

"You could have simply told them that you're my daughter."

 _"_ _Why do all the name dropping when I can go directly to the power behind the name?"_

Elizabeth chuckled as she reached for pen and paper. "Flattery will get you everywhere. What's his name?"

 _"_ _Noah…"_ Emily trailed off, realizing she had no clue what his last name was. It obviously wasn't Gideon. She turned around with the question in her eyes.

"Eisenberg. Noah Eisenberg," he supplied with a small smile.

 _"_ _Eisenberg,"_ she repeated. _"You got that?"_

"Got it. Is this the poor boy you went to identify?"

 _"It is, but luckily it wasn't him. Right now we're trying to track him down to make sure he's okay."_

"Ah. The game is afoot," she quoted, hearing the excitement in her daughter's voice. Did she always sound like that before the start of a case?

Emily smiled. _"Sherlock Holmes."_

"Correct. Give me a few minutes, Lee. I'll call you back."

 _"Okay, Mom. I'll be waiting for it."_

Elizabeth hung up and went to her study to contact her personal assistant. "Jonathan, please get the embassy in France on the line."

As she waited to be connected, she felt a flush of excitement. It was great to be helping Emily for a change. If this had happened a year ago, her daughter wouldn't have bothered to call. She would have taken her chances with the embassy staff. It was nice to be needed.

* * *

"I thought you didn't get along with your mother," Gideon observed when she had hung up.

Emily took her time in setting down her cell phone and arranging it so it laid dead center on top of her notes so that she could rein in her growing irritation. Once again he was prying into her personal life while she had yet to ask him one question about where he had vanished to five years ago. Was she curious? Damn right she was, she was very curious, but she wasn't the nosy type and it wasn't any of her business. What he has been up to over the years has no bearing on finding his missing nephew just like her fiasco with Doyle didn't. If Gideon wanted her to know, he'll tell her though she wasn't going to hold her breath about it.

"How would you know? You met my mother for what? A half hour max before you, Morgan and Reid flew to Boston. That's hardly enough time to understand the inner workings of our relationship."

"What can I say? I'm a quick study."

Her cell phone ringing saving Emily from coming up with a snarky response. A quick glance at the screen told her that it was Penelope. As soon as the connection was made, she told the blonde what she needed, making sure to give her Noah's full name, his cell phone number and the unknown number the text came from. But when she felt the question coming, she cut Penelope off before she could say another word. A fourth person asking her if she was okay would have made her a whole lot less okay, so she had to nip that in the bud before it happened and redirected her friend back to the matter at hand. Penelope took the hint and got to work. She did caution Emily that it was going to take some time since she had other searches to complete for an open case. The brunette told her that it wasn't a problem.

The second she hung up, the phone rang again. This time it was her mother calling her back. Elizabeth informed her that Noah never showed up at the embassy to apply for a new passport. Emily thanked her for her assistance and promised to call when she had some time later that night. When Elizabeth said I love you, Emily wanted to say it, but she was uncomfortable doing it in front of Gideon. Leaving the room was out of the question since he had eventually followed her before. She ended up turning her back on him and whispered a hasty 'I love you too' into the phone.

When she turned back, Gideon had a knowing smile on his face. "That was Mother," she explained unnecessarily.

"I know. I heard the I love you."

A faint flush crept up Emily's neck to her cheeks. "Uh…what she had to say is a mixture of good and bad. Noah never went to the embassy to get a replacement passport so that means he is probably still in the country and hopefully still here in the city."

Gideon frowned thoughtfully. "Isn't France part of the passport-free area of the European Union so you don't have to show it to travel between countries?"

Emily nodded. "Yes. The Schengen Agreement, but many member countries still require you to carry your passport and can ask to see it at any time. It's the only form of identification accepted."

"So he's still here," he said, agreeing with her previous statement. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost three o'clock. Capitaine Dubois said I could go through Noah's backpack."

"Then we better get going," she said, grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair. "We don't want to keep him waiting."

* * *

Emily sat next to Gideon at the conference table as he methodically went through the contents of Noah's backpack. Capitaine Dubois had been his courteous self, greeting them with a friendly smile as he escorted them to his office. After cautioning them again that nothing was to be removed from the office, he retreated to a corner and had a low conversation with his unnamed lieutenant. While she listened to them with half an ear, Emily picked up the water-logged sketchbook Gideon had set aside and thumbed through it. Though the pages were soaked, she could still make out the architectural features drawings Noah had done of the Duomo di Milano, St. Peter's Basiclica and the Trevi Fountain.

"I see Noah's been to Italy," she commented.

"Yes," Gideon grunted, studying the scraps of paper the police had bagged separately. "He spent a month there before coming to France."

"He's very good at drawing," she said, easily recognizing Notre Dame, the Stratsbourg Cathedral and the Pont Alexandre III.

"He gets it from his father's side of the family."

"I always wished I could draw like this," Emily said wistfully as she continued to flip through the pages. "But I can't, so I have to settle with going to the Louvre and admiring the works of others who can."

"I'm the same with the Smithsonian."

The conversation behind them grew more animated. Emily sat up straighter in her chair, focusing her full attention on what was being said while pretending to be still looking at the sketchbook. The more she heard, the more unsettled she grew. At one point she gave Gideon a subtle nudge under the table with her foot, and when he looked at her, Emily mouthed that they had to leave.

He nodded that he understood and pushed back from the table, drawing the attention of Dubois and his lieutenant. "Thank you, Capitaine, for allowing me to go through my nephew's backpack."

"You're welcome, Monsieur Gideon. Did anything appear to be missing or was there something that didn't belong?"

"Not that I could tell."

Dubois failed to hide his disappointment. "A pity. I was hoping you would find something that would indicate where your nephew is."

"So did I," Gideon agreed. He glanced at the sketchbook still in Emily's hand. "Would it be too much to ask if I could keep Noah's sketchbook? Of all his things, I know he would want it back even if it was damaged by the water."

The Capitaine and lieutenant exchanged words in rapid French before answering. "I believe we can do that. There was nothing of interest pertaining to the case in it besides the drawings of historical landmarks."

Gideon signed all the necessary release papers and with another promise to call if Noah contacted him, they made their way out into the December afternoon. Once they were a safe distance from the police station, Emily stopped and turned to him.

"We've got a problem."


	7. Chapter 7

"We have a problem," Emily said hurriedly to Gideon once they were a safe distance from the police station.

"What's wrong?"

"They think Noah did it."

"That's preposterous," Gideon retorted with an indignant snort.

"Not to the Capitaine. He's having his Lieutenant contact Interpol to see if there were similar murders in Italy while Noah was there."

"How would they know exactly when he was there? Like you said, you don't need to show your passport when crossing the border so there wouldn't be a stamp in it," he argued.

Emily gestured at the building. "We just told them he was in Italy, and sooner or later they will gain access to his credit card records and know exactly where's he's been. Here and in Italy," she added.

Gideon walked away a short distance. He was furious that the Paris police were actually considering his nephew as the prime suspect. It was utterly ridiculous. Noah was a kind and gentle young man. He would never hurt anyone, even in the heat of the moment. Since Dubois and his Lieutenant weren't here to be the targets of his anger, he took it out on the one who was present.

He marched back to Emily, pointing an accusing finger. "Why didn't you tell me about this before at the morgue?"

She gaped at him, unable to believe her ears. "What?"

"You heard me, Prentiss. You had every opportunity to tell me after we left the morgue, but instead you chose to withhold it. I thought we agreed that there wouldn't be any more secrets."

Emily's temper flared at the accusation. So much for getting along, it didn't even last a day. "We did and I didn't withhold anything. I just heard them discussing the possibility that Noah could be their killer. And back at the morgue? After you dropped your little bombshell, they were more upset that you had just set the case back to square one. They still had a body to identify."

What she didn't say was that she too had been slightly distracted by his announcement, but she had still caught the major highlights of the flics frantic discussion. Emily stopped herself from jabbing him with her own finger or grabbing his and breaking it.

"Don't tell me how to do my job, Gideon," she shot back. "I did exactly what you dragged me over here to do."

Gideon looked like he was about to say something he might later regret, but he took a step back and let out a slow breath. "I apologize, Prentiss. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. I don't like the idea that Dubois is considering Noah as their prime suspect. You didn't deserve that."

Emily let go of her anger. "No. I didn't and I don't like it anymore than you do. And I haven't even met him yet. "She just hoped he wasn't a carbon copy of his uncle. "Just remember that I'm here to help, not to be your personal whipping boy."

"Understood." Then he let out a self-depreciating chuckle. "I seem to be apologizing to you quite a bit."

That's because you keep pissing me off, she thought. "That's okay," she lied. "I know you're very worried about your nephew."

"Very much so," he confessed. "We need to find him before they do and get him to the American embassy."

She nodded. "Right now we have the advantage. The flics will have to go through legal channels to get his credit card records. We don't. We have Garcia and by the end of the day we'll know where to start looking."

"But until that happens, there is nothing we can do."

"Unfortunately so."

Gideon sighed in frustration as he looked around. He didn't like this feeling of helplessness. He was a man of action. Sitting around on his hands waiting for something to happen grated on him. He needed to take the bull by the horns and wrestle with it until he got what he wanted. But here he was, seeing it from the other side of the coin, seeing everything through the eyes of the families. It was unsettling and he needed to do something…anything.

"I'm going for a walk," he abruptly announced. "I'll meet you back at the hotel."

Without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heels and marched off down the street, leaving a shocked Emily in his wake.

It took her a moment to recover from the surprise and shouted to his departing back. "Call if you get lost."

She wasn't sure if he had heard her, but he gave her a backward wave of his hand. Now it was Emily's turn to look around, and like Gideon, she was at a loss at what to do. Time was of the essence. They needed to find Noah before the police did, but they needed a jumping off point. So until Penelope finished her searches, their hands were tied. Emily briefly entertained the thought of calling the blonde analyst and giving her a little nudge since he had apparently gone from murder victim to prime suspect. But she didn't because Penelope was the best at what she did. She was the queen of multi-tasking, capable of running multiple searches for multiple people at the same time. She'll call as soon as she had anything.

Emily exhaled loudly as she ran a disappointed hand through her hair, deciding she might as well head back to the hotel. She opted to walk for part of the way and soak up some of the Paris atmosphere. If she hopped into the next available cab, she would end up staring at her phone for hours willing it to ring. But a watched phone never rings. With another exhalation, she headed off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

* * *

Ten minutes into her walk, the hairs on the back of Emily's neck stood up. Someone was watching her. She resisted the urge to turn around to check and kept walking, pretending that she didn't know. She knew it wasn't Gideon because he no longer had a reason to be slinking in the shadows. He had gotten her to do what he wanted. So whom does that leave? Her mind immediately jumped to the possibility that it was someone else from her past stalking her. As quickly as she had thought it, Emily dismissed it. It was simply her paranoia kicking in. The only other reason she could come up with was that Dubois had ordered it. Noah was their prime suspect and appeared to be hoping that they would lead the police directly to him.

Now that she was confident that it was the police following her, Emily had to figure out a way to identify her tail without alerting them. Her solution came in the form of a couple that stopped her and asked her in broken French if she could take a picture of them. Emily gladly obliged, for it put her in the position to look back down the street. It didn't take her long to spot, over the shoulders of the grinning couple, a man trying very hard to appear nonchalant and blend in with the pedestrians. His regulation haircut, dress and mannerisms screamed police. Emily snapped two more photos of the couple before continuing on her way. As she walked, she pulled out her cell phone and sent Gideon a text message.

Caution. You may have a second shadow.

His response came seconds later. _I know._

She realized that he was fully aware of the latest development. The Paris police really needed to train their officers in the art of following persons of interest, especially if someone like Gideon spotted them. From her intense training with the CIA, Emily know that to be successful, you had to be one with your surroundings, not stick out like a sore thumb like hers was. If she had been doing the shadowing, her mark would have never known she was there.

Now that she had identified her tail, what was she going to do about it? For starters, she didn't want to lead him back to the hotel quite yet. She could shake him, but that could make Dubois and his lieutenant suspicious. They would assume she and Gideon were more than family worried about a loved one. They would be correct, but she didn't want them to know she was FBI until she was ready. That left Emily one option: to act like she was a tourist. So she decided to do something she hadn't planned on doing since they were only supposed to have been here for a day or two. Emily took her tail shopping.

* * *

As Emily stepped out of a used bookstore, her cell phone rang. She casually looked around for her shadow to make sure he wasn't close enough to eavesdrop on her phone call. He wasn't. He was across the street in a doorway looking bored out of his mind. For the past three hours he had watched Emily wander from store to store, shopping for unique gifts for her friends and family. In the bookstore Emily had just exited, she found an old volume of essays by many of France's enlightenment philosophers for Reid and for Derek a book on Savate, a form of French martial arts. It explained its history and showed the various moves, which he would no doubt demonstrate on her at one of their training sessions. Not wanting to be his defenseless guinea pig, she had picked up a copy for herself.

From the smaller sole proprietor stores, she picked up a dark blue French silk tie with a sky blue geometric design for Hotch. She found a very frilly, very pink, very Garcia couture umbrella for the colorful analyst. For JJ, a bottle of perfume that reminded Emily of the wildflowers that grew in the Alps. Emily couldn't exclude Will so she bought him a jar of truffle sea salt to amp up his Cajun cooking. Dave proved to be a bit harder and it took her some time to find what she hoped to be the perfect gift: a bottle of Chartreuse French liqueur. And finally for her mother: a mixed box of madeleines and macarons from her favorite patisserie.

The boys in her life were easier to do. She knew from experience that Jack and Henry would love anything she got them so she wanted their gifts to be unique. She had gone to a store that specialized in handmade wooden toys and other items. She got each boy a wooden sailboat, one with a blue hull and the other red. And for a few extra Euros she had their names in French, Jacques and Henri, painted on the stern. Sticking with the sailing theme, Emily picked up a 2000 piece non-locking wooden jigsaw puzzle for Russ. All three were too bulky to carry so she arranged to have them shipped to Dave's.

As she was leaving it occurred to her that she should get something for Declan, even though she wouldn't be able to give it to him in person. Since he loved building models airplanes, she got him a kit for a SPAD French bi-plane. Derek's words echoed in her head as she made arrangements to ship the gift to the boy's home address. With Doyle dead, there wasn't any reason why she couldn't visit him, but she still hadn't made any effort to see him. Declan had a good life and was better off without her in it. He was happy and so was she. She paused. Was she really? Doubt began to nibble at her resolve that Derek had been right that she had made the wrong decision. Emily shook her head to dispel the notion. No. She had done the right thing by staying away. Tom and Louise would make sure Declan got the model kit without mentioning whom it had come from.

She checked the screen before answering and when she saw the analyst's name, she placed the phone to her ear. "Hey, PG," she greeted warmly.

" _Hey, Emster. Is the City of Light treating you well?"_ Concern echoed in her voice.

Emily didn't sigh this time because she had known it was coming. It was a refrain that she would just have to get used to whenever she talked to the team while she was here. It was touching and frustrating at the same time.

"It's treating me well and vice versa. I just spent a boatload of money."

" _Shopping?"_ Penelope exclaimed. _"You went shopping and without me? That's like a cardinal sin. I expect souvenirs. And hey, how do you have time to shop? Shouldn't you be off playing Sherlock?"_

She smiled at the second Sherlock Holmes reference of the day. Perhaps she should get herself an Inverness cape, a deerstalker cap and a briar pipe. "I can't because Watson hasn't given me anything yet that I can use as a starting point."

" _I'm your Watson?"_ she responded, obviously flattered.

"Uh huh."

"What does that make Gideon?"

"The annoying client."

Penelope chuckled. _"Is he being his normal self?"_

"Yes," Emily said, pincing the bridge of her nose. "I had forgotten how frustrating he could be."

" _Oh. I know that feeling well,"_ Penelope commiserated, remembering the time he had hurt his leg and had been forced to work from Quantico and her office. _"He just comes in and takes over, touching things he shouldn't, moving things around…"_ she went off on a tangent, making it clear to Emily that she knew the frustration well.

Emily waited for the blonde to take a breath and cut in. "Did you find what I asked for?"

 _"Indeedy I did. I pulled up the last couple of months worth of statements. Everything was hunky dory until about two weeks ago when everything just stopped. No credit card activity or phone calls. The phone doesn't appear to be on so I can't pinpoint its location."_

"That's because it spent some time in the Seine."

 _"That would do it. Cell phones and water do not mix. People need to stop trying to teach their electronics to swim."_

Emily chuckled. "They only end up drowning."

 _"Righto. Anyhoo I'll send it all to your tablet."_

"I don't have my tablet with me."

There was a deep inhalation of breath. _"That's the second cardinal sin you've broken today, Em. I can't believe you left home without it."_

"Hey, this trip was only supposed to last a few days," Emily argued in her defense. "So I packed lightly. I also hadn't planned on shopping."

 _"Then why are you?"_

"Because I wanted to bore my tail to tears before heading back to the hotel."

There was another sharp intake of breath. _"You're being followed? By who and why?"_

"The flics. The Capitaine is hoping we lead him to Noah who, over the past few hours, has become their number one suspect."

 _"They want to arrest him?"_

"Not if we can help it. Just send everything to my phone."

 _"It's on its way."_

"Great. What about the unknown number?"

Penelope hit a few keys and brought it up on her computer screen. _"I'm afraid it's a prepaid phone so I can't trace it. If it is turned back on, I will be able to tell you what tower it pinged off of, but nothing closer,"_ she apologized.

"That's okay, Pen. I know you are doing your best." She checked her mailbox for the email. "Because of you, I'm now one step closer to finding Noah than I was a few minutes ago."

" _Aw shucks,"_ she blushed. _"I'll let you get back to your shopping. Buy me something pretty."_

Emily laughed. "I already have. Au revoir, Mon'Amie."

She hung up and checked on her shadow. He was still across the street trying too hard to be inconspicuous. Emily had one more stop to make before heading back to the hotel. She wanted to ship the gifts for the team home so she didn't had to lug them on the plane and get bogged down in customs. As she started walking, Emily briefly considered blowing her shadow's cover and have him make himself useful and carry some of her packages. It would have been fun to see his stunned face as she waltzed up to him and dumped her bags in his arms. But if she did that and show how incompetent he was, the Capitaine would assign someone better at tailing so she left things as they were.

* * *

When Emily slipped into their hotel suite, Gideon was already there. He was stretched out on the couch with a book in hand. She dropped the keycard and her bags on the table. "How long have you been back?"

He sat up and marked his page with a scrap of paper. "Not long. About a half hour."

"Any trouble getting back here?"

"None," he said with a shake of his head. "I just caught a cab after I finished sightseeing."

Emily smiled. The two of them had been thinking along the same lines. She had gone shopping and he had gone to see the sights. "Where did you go?"

"I ended up at the Louvre."

"Nice. Did you see the Mona Lisa?"

"Briefly. It was too crowded to look at it for very long."

"And how did you shadow like it?"

Gideon chuckled. "I don't think he really enjoyed it especially when I spent an hour studying Raphael's 'St. Michael Vanquishing Satan'. What about your shadow?"

"He's probably down in the lobby with yours and comparing notes," she said with her own chuckle. "I took mine shopping and at one point he looked bored out of his mind."

"Shopping can do that."

She turned back to the table and picked up one of the few bags she had brought back. Emily walked over to him and held it out. "I saw this while I was shopping for the team and Jack and Henry."

He took the bag, but didn't immediately look inside it. He had something else on his mind. "Who's Henry? Is he your boyfriend?"

"Yeah," she quipped. "I've always had a thing for blondes and younger too. Man, I'm really robbing the cradle with this one."

Gideon looked at her a little wide eyed and disbelieving. The profiler in him was worried he didn't know her as well as he thought and it was clouding his other skills. Her voice was saying one thing. Her straight face was saying another.

Emily laughed, a deep, vibrant laugh. "Relax. I'm sure he probably thinks he is, but Henry is JJ and Will LaMontagne's son. He's three."

"The detective from New Orleans?" he asked with a curious frown.

"Yes. He's the one. It took JJ almost a year to admit that they were seeing each other. I almost had to throw her at him when we bumped into him on another case."

"Sounds like it was one of the worst kept secrets in the BAU."

"Absolutely. I don't know how Garcia was able to contain herself for as long as she did. She was about ready to burst when JJ finally fessed up."

"They happy?"

"Very much. They're thinking of having more kids."

"Good for them. Family is important," Gideon said with a nod and finally turned his attention to the bag in his hand.

Emily held her breath. She hadn't planned on getting him anything because he was here in Paris with her and was busy being a thorn in her side. But she felt a little guilty excluding him when she was getting a gift for everyone else so when she saw it in the bookstore, she picked it up.

Gideon reached inside and pulled out an 8x9 print of two birds perched on a branch, one with a bee grasped in its beak. They were colorful little birds with chestnut crowns, black robber's masks, turquoise chests and yellow throat feathers.

"I hope you like it," she said. "I remembered seeing prints of birds in your old apartment."

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. "I do. What is it?"

"A European Bee-Eater. Before eating a bee it will bash the bee's head into the branch to stun it and then rubs its abdomen on the branch to flush out the toxins."

"Intriguing. Do you happen to know its Latin name?"

Emily screwed up her face as she tried to remember what it was. "Uh…I believe its Merops Apiaster."

He nodded, studying the print some more before saying, "Thank you, Prentiss."

"You're welcome," she replied, pleased that he had liked her spur of the moment purchase. She went back to the table and sat at the place where she had left her notes. "Garcia sent me Noah's phone and credit card history."

"Excellent," he agreed, coming to stand behind her with the print tucked under one arm while she opened the emails. "What did she find out?"

"She said there hasn't been any activity on either account for the past two weeks," Emily explained as she scrolled through the data, trying to ignore his hot breath on her neck as he leaned in closer to read what was on her phone.

"Makes sense." Gideon adjusted his reading glasses. "What about the unknown number?"

"From a burner phone. It's currently off, but she's set up an alert and will let us know the moment it is turned back on."

"Then we'll know the general area they are in." He was very well aware of the fact that disposable phones were much harder to pinpoint their exact locations than regular cell phones. But he thought there might have been some advances in technology during the years her was gone.

"Right." She enlarged the text so he could read it easier and get him off her back. "Let's see. His last charge was a place called Le Strasbourg," Emily observed and did a quick Google search. "It's a hostel on the Rue de Belzunce in the 10th arrondissement. That's on the right bank of the Seine," she added so he would have somewhat an idea of where it was.

"And we're on the left bank in the 7th."

"Yes! You're catching on, Gideon."

"I am." Then they grinned at each other. "We have our starting point."


	8. Chapter 8

Gideon and Emily grinned at each other when they uncovered the name of hostel Noah had last stayed in. "We have our starting point," he said.

"That we do," she agreed.

"What about his cell phone? Anything of interest?"

Emily pulled up the statement. "He called his mother several times in the past month. A Rolf von Grimmelshausen. That must be the Rolf your sister referred to. And this…" She taped the screen with a finger. "…Is our mystery number. It looks like Noah called it fifteen times and I bet if we looked at the previous month's statement, we will find many more."

Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew it!" he declared, feeling vindicated that he had been right about the validity of the test message. "I knew that text was from Noah."

Emily nodded it agreement, having no problem with being wrong about the sender of the text. At least they both knew it wasn't someone playing a cruel joke on them. Noah was in trouble and that made her more determined than ever to find him.

"We definitely need to find the owner of that phone. They might be able to tell us where Noah is or, even better, that he is with them."

"They could have disposed of the phone," he hated to point out.

"Let's hope that they didn't."

"What's that Rolf von something's number?" Gideon suddenly asked, whipping out his phone. "I want to call him."

Emily squinted at the screen and rattled off the number. He punched it into the phone and raised it to his ear. Seconds later he muttered a soft curse, hung up and then hit redial.

"What's wrong," she asked after the third attempt.

"I keep getting sent to his voicemail," he huffed in annoyance. All he wanted was for the damn kid to answer his damn phone. He needed answers now, not later at the kid's convenience.

"He's probably somewhere he had to turn his phone off or is in an area that has poor cell reception," Emily said calmly, having to be the voice of reason as she watched his frustration grow. The worry he had for his nephew was beginning to eat away at him. "Just leave him a message. He'll call back when he turns his phone back on."

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "You're right, Prentiss. Again. What would I do without your help?"

"You'd be wandering around the streets of Paris, thumbing through a French/English dictionary and unintentionally saying something inappropriate," she joked, trying to breathe some levity into the situation.

It worked and the ex-agent chuckled. "Probably. So shall we go check out the hostel?"

Emily glanced out the suite's windows and saw that the sun had almost set. The day had flown by faster that she had imagined it would. That could be good or bad depending on how you looked at it.

"I know you're not going to like what I'm going to say next, but I think we should wait until morning. Odds are we're going to be canvassing the neighborhood after we talk to the management and guests of the hostel. Most of the businesses around it have closed for the night."

"That's true," Gideon reluctantly conceded.

"I'm sure Noah is fine," Emily said confidently even though she didn't feel it. "You haven't gotten another frantic text from him."

"It could also mean that he's dead," he said grimly.

"We can't think that way," she counseled. "What did we always say about missing victims?"

"Until we have evidence to the contrary, we must assume the victim is still alive."

"Exactly. So instead of worrying all night, lets go flush out our tails from the lobby and go have dinner. I know a place that makes the best boudin noir aux pommes."

Gideon was intrigued. "That good?"

"It's delicious."

She was right. Sitting here worrying wouldn't do him any good. "I'm game," he agreed, grabbing his jacket. "What does it mean?"

Emily gave him a sly smile. "I'll tell you after you tried it."

* * *

 _The team was in position. Emily and Reid just flew in, their helicopter landing safely behind the line of police cars. One prisoner, she kept saying to herself as they disembarked. They were doing an exchange; one prisoner for a little boy. Emily had to distance herself from the situation. It wasn't the man who had made her a victim. It wasn't Ian Doyle. It was some nameless prisoner. And that boy… that boy was still Declan. The same boy she cared about so deeply about that it hurt. She would do whatever she had to do to protect him, even if the thought of Doyle getting away made her physically ill._

 _She could see the rest of the team from where she stood, Doyle cuffed and stilled between her and Reid. Hotch took the lead, pulling ahead of his gun armed agents to attempt contact._

 _With the megaphone in hand, he spoke. "This is the FBI. We know you have Declan. To ensure his safety, we would like to trade. Send us the boy, and we will give you Ian Doyle."_

 _Emily waited with baited breath for their next move, gripping the prisoner's arm tightly in her grasp. Slowly, the plane door came down and Emily's heart clenched as she saw the man holding a gun to Declan's head. The boy looked terrified, and she was terrified for him. "It's okay," she said to herself, trying to send him the same calming thoughts telepathically. It didn't do much for either of them._

 _Reid urged them to walk, Emily oblivious to the command to bring Doyle closer, so focused on Declan, in watching him and praying he stayed safe. Each step felt like a million miles, her heart pumping at full force and her mind playing out every scenario. Then the world came to a standstill._

 _"Gun!" Derek shouted._

 _Only a foot away from Declan, literally in her reach, and a woman emerged from the plane, gun first, shooting without care of whom she hit. At first, Emily was stunned, as everything seemed to move in slow motion. Her hands released Doyle and she ran for Declan who was falling to the ground. She could vaguely hear the gunfire around her, the man, woman and Doyle all hit, but her eyes were fixed on the boy._

 _"Declan! Declan," she called to him, desperately praying for a response as she fell to her knees beside him. Blood. All she could see was blood. The ground, his tee shirt was stained with it. "No! Oh god, no," Emily cried, her hands pressing on his wound. He was dead. She knew he was, but she wasn't ready to accept it yet. It felt like she couldn't breathe, like all those years of working to protect him were wasted by a shot to the back. "Declan… please."_

 _Reid materialized behind her and gently took her by the arm, trying to pull her away from the body. That was what he was now… A body._

 _"Stop," Emily demanded, jerking her arm free and reapplied the pressure even though she knew it was of no use. "Declan. Declan needs me."_

 _"Emily…"_

 _"This can't be happening. Reid, Declan needs an ambulance. Help him," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks._

 _"He's gone, Emily."_

 _"No… No!"_

 _"He's gone," Reid repeated, wrapping his arms around her and physically dragging her away._

" _No. No!" she cried, fighting him and stretching her blood-covered hands toward the little boy's body. "Nooo…"_

"Nooo!" Emily bolted upright in bed. Sweat beaded her brow and her heart thumped rapidly against her ribcage as clammy hands clutched at the sheets. "Declan?" she gasped, frantic eyes scanning the dark room.

It took a minute or two for the realization to settle in that she wasn't on some airstrip, but safe and sound in her Paris hotel room. Releasing a shuddering breath, Emily drew up her knees, resting her elbows on them as she scrubbed her face with her hands. The dream had seemed so real. She had felt the warmth of Declan's life seeping out between her fingers. Squinting in the darkness, she held her hands up expecting to see them covered in blood, but they were clean and shaking. Emily sighed in relief, dropping one hand to her knees while running the other through her sweat dampened hair. She had thought she had done everything right to prevent a nightmare from occurring.

Dinner had been a nice, quiet affair. Both had enjoyed the boudin noir aux pommes served with a red Bordeaux and followed by a pithiviers, an almond flavored cake. The look on Gideon's face had been priceless when she had told he had just dined on blood sausage with baked apples. Then over café noirs, he had gotten her to talk about what had been happening at the BAU since he had been gone. He couldn't help but notice that she glossed over the past year. Whatever had happened to her must have occurred to her during that time frame because it almost seemed like she had no clue what had gone on for several months.

Afterwards they had returned to the hotel. Gideon had retreated to his room to do whatever he did behind closed doors while she had headed for the pool to do some laps. The swimming had done her a world of good last night, leaving her tired and stress free so why not do it again. An hour later Emily had crawled into bed and had read until she couldn't keep her eyes open. She had gone to sleep thinking she was going to have another nightmare free night.

"Well that didn't work," she muttered, reaching to turn on the bedside lamp.

A sudden pounding on the door startled Emily, causing her heart to start racing. Then came the sound of the doorknob trying to turn. Now in a slight panic, she snatched her Glock off the nightstand and leveled it at the door.

"Prentiss! Are you alright?" Gideon shouted through the wood.

"Shit," she swore, lowering the gun. What was he doing here? Gideon was the last person she wanted to see right now. It was bad enough that he had somehow overheard her in the throes of a nightmare. She had to get rid of him. "Go away. I'm fine."

"I don't think so. Open up."

She sighed, climbed out of bed, set the gun back on the nightstand and went over to the locked door, but didn't open it, choosing to lean against it. "I'm fine, Gideon. Go back to bed."

He wasn't satisfied with her answer and knocked again, though with less urgency. "I'm not leaving," he announced.

Emily cracked the door open, her face barely visible in the space. "I'm okay. Nothing to be concerned about," she assured him.

"You were crying out in your sleep."

"No I wasn't," she said, defensively, hands releasing the door to wrap around her body.

"Prentiss…" Gideon started, taking her move as an invitation into the room and a way to get a better look at her. But before he could, she turned away from him. "What's going on? First Hotch seemed worried about you. Now this. What happened to you?"

"Nothing. It was just a bad dream. It's no big deal. Go back to bed, Gideon."

He wasn't ready to give up yet. He could be just as stubborn as she was. Something was wrong and he was genuinely worried about her. "Who is Delcan? You called out his name several times."

Her eyes grew wide as she turned back to him. "Wha…what?"

"Who is Delcan?" he repeated gently.

"Nobody of any importance," she lied with a shrug. She just wanted him gone.

She didn't fool him. "Clearly, that's a lie."

"Right…and you would know that because you know my life and the people in it so well," she shot back sarcastically.

He ignored her sarcasm. "I know that because it's written all over your face. So, I ask again, who is he?"

She shied away. "Gideon, mind your own business."

"Right now this is my business."

"I don't see how. I'm fine. You're fine… that's that."

"You woke me up with your screaming, officially making this my business."

"I told you, I'm…"

Gideon cut her off with a frown and a dismissive wave of his hand. "Fine…yeah yeah. I heard you. You don't want to tell me everything, okay. You don't have to. But you still need to have someone to talk to, because there's something going on. But I need something from you to know that you're really alright so that I can go back to bed without worrying you'll wake up screaming again and I won't be able to help you."

"I'm alright, really. It was just a bad dream. You know from personal experience that this job lends itself to bad dreams from time to time."

"So Declan was from a case gone wrong?" he probed.

Emily stared at him. Technically it was true. She didn't want to answer him, but she also knew him. Gideon would continue to press her unless she gave him something, but she couldn't. He was a stranger and not privileged to know what was going on in her head.

"Gideon, I appreciate what you're trying to do, really, but it was just a dream. I'm okay. I just want to get back to bed and you should do the same."

He gazed into her pleading dark brown eyes and realized he had gone as far as he could go. He wanted answers, but he wasn't going to get them at this time of night. Emily was too wary and from the year he had worked and profiled her, he had learned when pushed too much, she clammed up. He would bow to her request and revisit the subject when she was more relaxed.

"Alright," he huffed with a nod. "You win. I'll go back to bed." Gideon went to the door and paused in the opening. "Goodnight…Emily. Sleep well." Then he was gone.

She stared at the now closed door. He had called her Emily. Not once had he ever called her by her first name. It had always been Prentiss. She had often wondered if he had even known what it was. Hotch had been like that in the beginning, but as he warmed up to her and she to him, he only called her Prentiss when working. She gave her head a shake. _Would wonders never cease,_ she thought wryly? Glad to be finally free of Gideon, she went to the bathroom to get a drink of water.

Turning the light on low, Emily purposely avoided looking in the mirror. She didn't need her reflection to tell her she looked like crap. She knew she was paler than normal, her eyes dull and tired, and her hair looking like she had stuck her finger in the nearest electrical outlet. Emily splashed some water on her face and then filled the drinking glass. As she raised it to her lips, she saw how bad her hand was still shaking. The nightmare and the confrontation with Gideon had rattled her more than she had originally estimated.

There was no way she was falling back asleep, not like she was. She spent a moment just leaning against the sink, thinking about her next move. Reentering the bedroom, Emily's eyes went to the clock. Its glowing colors read 3 am. It was evening in the States. Though she didn't want to bother him, he did offer and she could really use that ear to bend. So with a little hesitancy, she moved over to the edge of the bed, grabbing her phone as she did, and dialed the familiar number.

* * *

Hotch folded back the covers and climbed into bed, figuring he would work on some paperwork before officially calling it a night. Jack was tucked snuggly into bed dreaming about whatever little boys dream about. _Probably superheroes_ , he thought with a chuckle. And before turning out the lights, they had read a chapter of 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'. That was his favorite part of their nightly ritual, sitting next to his son in bed and listening proudly as he read aloud. He would savor every time until the day Jack told him he was too old for it, hoping that it wouldn't happen for many years to come. He had just opened the file when his cell phone rang. He picked it up and frowned when he looked at the screen.

"Emily," Hotch answered, worry evident in his voice. If she was calling, she was calling for a reason. It had to be very, very early in the morning there. No way should she have been awake.

" _Hi, Hotch."_

"How are things going there?"

The second Emily heard his voice she knew she had made a mistake. She shouldn't have called and interrupted his evening, even though he had told her to call if she was having a bad day. Tonight certainly qualified, but she still felt guilty about it. As much as she wanted to hang up on him, she knew she couldn't. Hotch would blow up her phone until she answered and told him the reason for the call. She had to tell him something and latched on to the first thing that popped into her head.

" _Gideon is being a pain in my ass."_

"How so?"

Emily didn't need anymore prompting and launched into everything he had done since landing in Paris, anger, annoyance and frustration echoing over the line. Hotch didn't interrupt her, knowing she had to vent because Gideon had that affect on people. As she talked, he used that time to profile Emily a bit, trying to determine her true reason for calling. He had a pretty good idea what it was, but he wanted to make sure before bringing it up.

" _I just wish he would mind his own damn business,"_ Emily finished up with.

"Sounds like Gideon is still being Gideon," he concluded reasonably.

" _I guess,"_ she conceded and then fell silent.

Hotch let the silence stretch on. Emily hadn't thanked him for listening nor had she hung up so he knew there was something still weighing heavily on her mind besides Gideon. She was waiting for some not too subtle nudging on his part.

"Emily, would like you to tell me the real reason you called me at 3 am Paris time? Did you have a nightmare?"

She blew out a breath of frustration and he knew he had hit the nail on the head. That was her tell, one that she didn't know she had and one he wasn't going to tell her about. She would then make a conscious effort to change it and he would lose a valuable tool in predicting her mindset.

"Tell me about it," was all he said.

Emily sighed as she stood up and went over to the window. Parting the curtains, she gazed out at the Eiffel Tower off in the distance. _"It was one of the versions of the same dream I had regularly for the two months I was exiled here."_

Guilt swept over him. He still regretted his decision in sending her unwillingly so far away from her family in order to protect her, but he would do it again. It had kept her alive and had brought her back to them.

" _They all start off the same,"_ she continued. _"We're on some airstrip exchanging Doyle for Declan when one of the kidnappers bursts out of the jet and starts firing. Bullets are flying everywhere and people die. Some times it's one or all of the team. Other times it's Doyle, sometimes both of us or just me. This time…"_

"It was Declan," he said softly.

" _Yeah,"_ she said, resting her forehead against the cool glass.

"Declan's still alive," he gently reminded her.

" _I know."_ And yet, the pain of the loss that she had felt when she woke up was still raw and aching in her chest. She felt like she had lost him.

Realizing that she was a tough nut to crack, and she needed him to open up a bit for her to get comfortable enough to really talk, he offered her his own experience.

"Nightmares are the worst when you're away from home, aren't they?" Emily nodded in agreement. "I had some pretty bad ones after Foyet."

" _What did you do about it?"_

"For a long time…nothing. Nothing really helped."

" _Great,"_ she sighed wearily.

"But then I had a good friend remind me that I wasn't alone and that I had people I could lean on," he reminded her of their conversation many moons ago. "I talked about it with Dave. We all have nightmares. With what we see, how can we not? But the personal ones are always the worst."

" _Did talking help?"_

Hotch gazed at the photo of Haley he still kept on his nightstand. "Yes and no. It didn't make the nightmares go away immediately, but they started to lose their power."

Emily let out a rueful chuckle. _"Is that your roundabout way of getting me to talk about it?"_

"It's my way of taking your mind off of the nightmare. Is it working?" he asked with a small smile.

" _A little."_

"Good." He paused and then said, "Have you talked to Declan since you've been back?"

" _I've been to several of his lacrosse games,"_ she evaded.

Hotch arched an eyebrow. "Have you actually talked to him?" he pressed.

She turned away from the window and wrapped her free arm around her body, suddenly cold. _"No."_

"Why not?"

" _It's complicated."_

"How? All you have to do is say hi."

Emily sighed. _"Not like that, Hotch. We…we haven't seen each other in almost eight years. I doubt he even remembers me. I asked Tom and Louise never to mention me."_

He had known she had purposely stayed away to protect him, to hide him from those who wanted to exploit him. But he also thought Emily had done it to protect herself, to protect her heart. If she hadn't cared deeply about Declan, she wouldn't have gone through such extremes to relocate him and the nanny.

"Declan might still remember you," he suggested.

" _I hope not. He's happier without me in his life,"_ had become her standard refrain.

"Are you?"

" _Am I what?"_

"Are you happy that he's not in your life?"

" _Yes,"_ Emily answered immediately, but Hotch heard the hesitancy loud and clear. She wasn't sure.

"I'm going to toss my two cents in here. I think if you had regular contact with him, you wouldn't worry so much about his safety and those particular nightmares will fade. Not immediately, but with time."

" _That seems more like a quarter worth."_

"Inflation," he deadpanned. "Will you at least think about it?"

" _I will,"_ she agreed softly.

"That's all I'm asking." Hotch glanced at the clock and saw they had been talking for almost an hour. "You should go back to bed and try to get some sleep."

" _Yeah, I should,"_ she said, seeing how late it was. She was going to have a long frustrating day tomorrow and she needed what sleep she could get. _"Thanks, Hotch, for listening."_

"I'm glad you called, Emily. And if you have another rough night, give me a ring. You know I'm here for you whatever the time."

" _I do and I appreciate it. Night."_

"Night," he said and hung up.

Hotch tossed the unopened file off to one side and scooted down in bed. With his hands behind his head, he gazed up at the ceiling. It felt good to help her over a rough patch, even if there were thousand of miles separating them. Emily was making progress. She was starting to trust him again.

* * *

Across the pond, Emily had the same thoughts. She actually felt better after talking with Hotch. He had made it feel like they were talking friend to friend and not boss to employee. Yawning, she crawled back into bed and burrowed beneath the covers, willing herself to relax. Eventually she fell into a restless, but thankfully, a dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

When Emily woke up the following morning, she felt like she had just swum a thousand laps in the hotel pool. She was tired, a tiredness that sank deep into her bones. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, scrubbed her face with her hands and then staggered off to the bathroom, hoping a shower would revitalize her. Twenty minutes later, she emerged refreshed and ready to face another day with Gideon. As she got dressed, she told herself not to let him get to her, like he done numerous time yesterday. That she needed to be calm and collected, be professional.

"Easier said than done," she muttered softly as she exited the bedroom.

Like yesterday, Emily expected Gideon to be down in the dining room waiting for her to appear so she was surprised to find him puttering around the kitchenette.

"Good morning, Prentiss," he greeted her with a smile when he spotted her.

"Uh…morning. What's going on?" she asked, noticing the pastries and fruit on the table.

"I thought after last night, you might not be up to going down to the dining room, so I thought I would treat you to a traditional French breakfast. When I heard you moving about, I went down to the Concierge and they directed me to a…what are they called?"

"Patisserie," she supplied.

"Right." He gestured at the pastries. "I wasn't sure what you liked so I got a little of everything. Lets see if I got this right. Croissant au beurre, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins and chausson aux pommes," pointing at each as he spoke.

"Correct, though you French accent is horrible,' she said with a small smile as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

He shrugged and picked up a large cup and saucer from the counter. "And since you are rebelling against your self imposed ban of coffee…a café au lait."

Emily was touched. It was very sweet of Gideon to go through all of this trouble to get her breakfast. It was a side of him she had rarely seen. The ex-agent had a tendency to show it with the victim's family and, on occasion, the UnSub. Wait a minute! Come to think of it, she had never been a recipient of it…until now. Emily's bullshit radar starting pinging. Was he being genuinely nice to her or did he have an ulterior motive? Was he trying to get on her good side and get her to open up about her nightmare and the time she had spent in exile here? If that was true, it was very strategic and slightly sociopathic of him.

Fat chance of that happening, she mentally snorted. _I'm on to you, Old Man. You're not getting behind my walls._

"Thank you, Gideon," she said aloud, helping herself to one of each. "This was nice of you."

"You're welcome," he said with a nod, selecting a croissant to munch on as he worked the crossword puzzle from the English version of the European New York Times. "I must say this is different from the breakfasts I'm used to."

"The French do like theirs light, not heavy like ours," Emily said, taking a sip of her café au lait and sighing. Her ulcer had healed so there really was no reason for her continuing to go cold turkey on coffee. She could exercise moderation and have a few cups per week. Maybe she should get herself one of those single serve coffee makers with all those different flavors for her new row house.

"We do like our eggs and bacon," he agreed, turning his full attention to the puzzle.

Emily picked up one of the French newspapers Gideon had grabbed on his way back up and scanned its contents as she nibbled on a chausson aux pommes. She was curious to see if the police had appealed to the public for help in identifying their John Doe since Gideon's revelation had put them back to square one. Nothing. Which was actually sad for the poor man lying on the slab in the morgue. Yet at the same time, Emily was relieved to see that there was no mention that they were actively pursuing a suspect. If they had, it could drive Noah deeper underground, especially if they had printed his name or photo, and made it that much harder to find him.

"Anything?"

She looked over the top of the newspaper to find Gideon gazing intently at her. She didn't waste any time trying to figure out what he meant. He was thinking the same thing she was. Before answering, Emily folded up the paper and set it off to one side.

"Not a word. Which is good for us. It makes our job easier."

"Agreed. Now all we need to do first is to lose our tails."

"They're still there?"

"Yes. One followed me to the…what did you call it before?"

"Patisserie," she said with an amused smile.

"That's it. So we need to a way to shake them without letting them know we're on to them." Gideon leaned back in his chair, idly sipping his coffee as he thought. "Sneaking out the back way would signal the wrong intent."

"Right. We need to shake them in a way that doesn't look like we're trying to shake them," Emily mused, thoughtfully nibbling on a thumbnail. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks and hopped out of her chair. "I know what to do. I'll be right back," she announced and hurried back to her bedroom where she had left her cell phone.

Gideon thought about following her, but decided against it, figuring she didn't need him breathing down her neck. But he was very curious to what she had up her sleeve besides her arm. A few minutes later, Emily returned with a smile on her face.

"All done. Our car will be here within an hour."

"You rented us a car?" he asked in puzzlement. "How is that going to help us shake our tails? They'll simply follow us in theirs."

"Trust me, Gideon. This will work."

He studied her for a long minute with narrowed eyes. His original assessment was correct. She definitely has something up her sleeve and it wasn't just her arm. He tried reading it in her eyes, but she had a damn good poker face when she used it.

He exhaled slowly and crossed his arms. "Prentiss, you're being intentionally cryptic."

"Yes, I am."

"And you're not going to tell me?"

The corner of her mouth curved up into another smile. He hadn't let her in on his plan yesterday so it was her turn to be secretive and then they would be even. With her way, Gideon wouldn't be blindsided like she had been. He had just been warned in advance that something was about to happen so he would be prepared.

"Nope. What's the fun in that?"

* * *

Forty minutes later Emily's phone rang. Their ride had arrived and they headed for the lobby. They had the elevator car to themselves so they could freely converse if they wanted to as it slowly descended.

"Still not going to tell me what's going on?" Gideon asked, standing with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"Nope." Emily's eyes were glued to the crawling numbers. "I want your reaction to be natural," she explained, giving him the same reason he had given her yesterday to why he had kept her in the dark.

"Trying to say I can't act?"

"Your words, not mine."

A moment later the elevator doors opened and the two stepped into the lobby. Before Emily had taken ten steps, a thin older man with gray hair, bushy moustache and wearing a black beret, engulfed her in an enthusiastic bear hug. "Emily!"

She laughed, returning the hug with the same amount of enthusiasm. "Sebastien. It is good to see you."

"Same here." He held her at arms length, studying her from top to and bottom and liked what he saw. "How is mon le petit singe?"

"I'm good. And you?"

"Bien. And ta mere? Is she doing well?"

"Mother is doing great. She sends her love."

Sebastien blushed. "L'ambassadeur has always been bon pour moi. Elle est charmante."

There were many times while growing up, Emily wouldn't have called her mother lovely. She had a few more choice words to describe her. But Sebastien had only worked for the Ambassador; he didn't have to live with her day in and day out. Back then it had seemed like her mother treated her employees with more respect and kindness than she had given her own daughter. Those actions had fostered some resentment in Emily toward some of the staff, especially the ones she had already taken a dislike to. Sebastien wasn't one of them. He had always treated her like she was one of his many daughters and always had a box of licorice drops in his pocket that he always shared with her. He had also told wonderful stories that left her listening in fascination.

As if he was reading her mind, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the very familiar round yellow box. "Still your favorite, le petit singe?"

Emily's eyes lit up in delight. "Yes! Though I haven't had any in years."

Sebastien pressed the hard candy into her hand. "Take them. Amusez-vous bien."

"Merci beaucoup," she said, opening the box and popping one into her mouth. Her mind immediately flashing back to childhood when he playfully made her guess which pocket he had the candy hidden in.

"De rien," he said with a huge smile when he saw the look of joy on her face. He had very fond memories of the little dark haired girl with the inquisitive dark brown eyes and endearing smile.

Off to one side, Gideon watched the exchange between the two with a small smile. It was obvious from their warm greeting that they have known each other for a long time, probably stretching all the way back to when Emily was a child. It was nice to see this side of her, so free and relaxed. When he had worked with her, she was a woman on a mission to prove to everyone, especially Hotch, that she belonged. Well, not anymore. Now she knew where she fit and understood her value. At the same time, she was weighed down, compartmentalized and heavy with everything she had organized into those boxes. So it was good seeing her enjoying the reunion, but they couldn't stand around all the reminiscing. They needed to find Noah. Gideon cleared his throat to remind them that he was there.

Emily turned to him and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, Gideon. Forgive my manners. This is Sebastien, an old friend of the family. Sebastien, this is Jason Gideon. He's a…" She trailed off unsure how to describe their relationship. He was more of an acquaintance than a friend, but it didn't sound right since they were here together in Paris. She had to say something for the benefit of their tails who were unobtrusively eavesdropping on their conversation.

Gideon saved her the trouble. "We used to work together," he said, holding out his hand to the Frenchman.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Gideon," he smiled, returning the handshake. "Tout ami de Emily un de mes amis." He reverted back to French in his excitement.

He didn't need an interpreter to tell him what Sebastien meant. The man considered him a friend. "Just call me Jason," he said as he discretely rubbed his hand. The older man had a grip like a vise.

"Jason," he repeated with a nod.

Emily draped an arm over her friend's shoulder. "Sebastien has kindly volunteered to give us a tour of the city. He knows Paris like the back of his hand."

"Oui. And not the tourist attractions, but the true city. Those little places that make Paris Paris."

So that was her plan. Sebastien would take them somewhere they could easily get lost in the crowds and then meet back up with him at a designated spot. From there it would be an easy drive to the hostel Noah last stayed at.

"I like the sound of that," he agreed, playing his part perfectly. "Let's proceed."

"Oui." Sebastien led them to the battered Citroen parked at the curb. He opened the groaning door and said, "Les dames d'abord."

"Merci," Emily said, climbing into the backseat and then sliding over to the other side so that Gideon could get in.

Using brute strength, Sebastien slammed the stubborn door shut. Then he trotted around the front of the car and hopped into the driver's seat.

"Buckle up," she advised softly, buckling her seatbelt as the Frenchman inserted the key into the ignition. The engine coughed several times before it turned over.

"Why?" he asked, slowing reaching for the shoulder strap.

"He's worse that a New York cabbie."

He had just gotten his seatbelt latched when Sebastien peeled away from the curb with the smell of burning rubber, squealing tires and the cacophony of angry honks from the motorists he had just cut off. The passengers were thrown back into their seats by the sudden acceleration. On the sidewalk the two tails were caught flat-footed by the abrupt departure and hurried to their car. By the time they got it started and merged with the traffic, the Citroen and its occupants had disappeared around the corner.

Gideon hung on to the handle above the door for dear life as Sebastien would ride up on the bumper of the car in front of him and then abruptly change lanes before flying by like a bat out of hell. _He's going to get us killed,_ he wildly thought. _I've survived numerous murderers only to die on the streets of Paris in a car driven by a maniac driver_. Only after he had caught his breath after a near miss, did he risk a glance at his fellow passenger. Emily sat with her hands in her lap as she calmly watched the buildings scream past her window. It was obvious she was used to Sebastien's erratic driving, though he did notice she had one foot braced against the frame of the driver's seat to cut down on the jostling.

"I take it Sebastien was part of your mother's security detail? One of the chauffeurs with defensive driving skills?"

"No. He was the gardener."

* * *

Sebastien drove one handed as he weaved recklessly in and out of traffic, using the other to gesture at the sights he thought would be of interest to his passengers. Gideon had given up trying to look where he was pointing because by the time he did, they were already well past it. His heart seized when the Frenchman looked directly over his shoulder, instead of keeping his eyes on the road and glancing in the rearview mirror when he wanted to talk to them.

"So mon le petit singe, how long will you be staying here in our beautiful city?"

 _Look out!_ Gideon screamed in his head as he pounded the floor of the car with his foot, desperately seeking the brake pedal. Sensing, rather that seeing the impending collision, Sebastien yanked the wheel hard to the right, narrowly missing the stalled delivery van in their lane.

"I'm not sure, Sebastien. It depends on how long it takes for us to find Jason's nephew Noah. Hopefully it will only be a few days."

"Ah, yes. The poor lad. When you do, you must bring him and Jason to dinner. Marie will be thrilled to see you."

Emily glanced at Gideon to see what he thought, but his eyes were squeezed shut and she smiled. "I don't know," she hedged. She didn't want to commit him to something he didn't want to do.

"Marie would cook up such a feast. She doesn't get to do that much now that all our girls are gone. I won't take no for an answer, petit singe."

It was very tempting. Marie made a mean Gigot D'Aqneau Pleureur and her Profiteroles were to die for. That woman knew how to cook. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best."

Sebastien grinned and turned his attention back to his driving. Seeing the light was about to turn red, he gunned the engine and roared through the intersection.

Gideon, needing something, anything, to distract him from his fast approaching death, latched on to the phrase the Frenchman had said to Emily several times. Since she had called him Jason, he would return the favor.

"Emily," he said and waited for her to look at him. "I may not speak French, but I do know petit means little. But I'm unfamiliar with singe."

Emily didn't want to go there with him. Stop trying to know everything, Gideon, she wanted to say, but instead she chose to be snarky. "If you really want to know that badly, get a dictionary and look it up."

"Emily, such a tone," Sebastien scolded from the driver's seat. "It means monkey. She's my little monkey."

"Little monkey?" he questioned, amusement tugging at his lips.

"It's just a childhood nickname," she said lamely, a faint flush coming to her face as she turned away.

"Jason, would you like to know why I call her little monkey?"

Her eyes widened in fear. "Sebastien, I don't think—" she protested.

"Emily, shush," Gideon cut in. "It's not polite to interrupt your elders." Emily's mouth snapped shut and she glared daggers at him that he ignored. "Sebastien, I would love to hear it."

 _This so isn't happening_. She crossed her arms and slunk down in her seat as the Frenchman basked in the attention of his new audience. "This one was an adventurous little child when her nose wasn't buried in a book. So fearless. Once she learned to climb, she couldn't be stopped."

 _Oh god! It really was happening_ , she thought sourly, wishing she could sink through the floor of the car and disappear. But since that was physically impossible, Emily had to settle on plotting Sebastien's death before he told Gideon about every one of her childhood escapades that he had witnessed.

"She loved to scamper up trees like a little monkey, but always got stuck at the top because coming down is much harder than going up. I was the one who had to go up and rescue her. And once I had her back on solid ground and turned my back for a second, she scurried up the tree again."

Emily scowled as Gideon chuckled. "It was a useful skill to have," she said in her defense. Climbing had served her well when she had been sneaking out of her bedroom at night to go party.

"Good to know she was always so determined and stubborn," Gideon said, earning a heavy glare from her.

Before either of them had a chance to say another word, Sebastien took a sharp turn, jostling their bodies. Gideon quickly lost count of the number of near collisions and he was pretty sure a couple of turns had been taken on two wheels. The Frenchman's driving was better suited for the Autobahn or the Indianapolis 500 than the streets of Paris. Suddenly he stomped on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt.

Sebastien turned in his seat and grinned at them. "Here we are. Le Strasbourg hostel."

"Oh thank god," Gideon mumbled under his breath as he threw open the door and stumbled out of the car, feeling a little shaky on his feet. He staggered over to the nearest lamppost and leaned against it as Emily thanked and said goodbye to Sebastien.

After the Frenchman had departed in the squeal of tires, Emily walked over to him with a worried look. She was a little concern about him because Sebastien's driving wasn't for the faint hearted; it took a while to get used to. Well for an adult it was, but as a child, and totally unaware of the hazards, it had been thrilling, like riding a roller coaster. But at the same time, Emily felt a hint of satisfaction after what she had just suffered through.

"Are you okay, Gideon?" she asked. "You're looking a little green around the gills."

"I'll be fine in a minute."

"You sure? I can run to the pharmacie across the street and get you some Dramamine."

"Positive." He took several deep breaths before slowly straightening. "Can we just take a cab back to the hotel when we're done here?"

Emily shook her head. "I don't think so. I think it would seem suspicious if we don't return with Sebastien since he's supposed to be giving us a tour of the city."

"Good point. If I survived the drive here, I can survive the trip back. Maybe he'll drive slower since he doesn't have to shake an tails."

"You keep thinking that," she encouraged with a chuckle. "Sebastien has one speed: overdrive."

"That's what I'm afraid of."


	10. Chapter 10

Emily and Gideon approached the hostel, each crafting their own approach in their head. They didn't want to freak out any of the guests, all probably foreigners in a new place when terrorism wasn't all that uncommon. Neither wanted to go in guns blazing and scaring anyone who heard what they were asking about.

"Let me take the lead," she told him, opening the door and walking in before he could put in his two cents.

She led the way to the front desk all the while taking in as many details about the place as she could. Gideon did the same. "Excusez-moi, Michel," she said, reading the man's nametag.

"Oui comment puis-je vous aider?"

"Parlez-vous anglais?"

"Yes, I speak English," he said with his accent still heavy. "Are you checking in?" He eyed them warily. They got older couples on occasion, but it was always best to be cautious.

"No," Gideon interrupted, no longer comfortable taking a backseat in this conversation.

"No? So how may I help you? Is one of our guests expecting you?"

Ignoring the man's question, Gideon asked, "How long have you worked here?"

"The past few years. Why?"

"Were you working two weeks ago?"

Michel was taken aback by Gideon's gruffness, but still answered. "Oui. Probably. I work almost everyday for a few hours."

"Good. Then you can answer a few questions for me."

"Regarding what? I may not give specifics about our guests."

"You better answer," Gideon gruffed.

"I'm sorry," Emily butted in, shooting the older man a warning look. "He's having a rough few days. See, his nephew, Noah is missing. He was staying here with some friends and now we can't seem to find him. We're not here to cause any trouble; we just want to ask a few questions. Would that be okay?"

Eyes still slightly narrowed, the man began to warm to Emily. "I can try."

"Great," she beamed at him and he relaxed further. "Do you keep any records of comings and goings like when the guests leave their rooms or where they go?"

"No." Emily didn't think so. It was a hostel, not a hotel. Keycards weren't exactly the norm.

"Okay. Would you happen to remember Noah Eisenberg? I can show you his picture." Emily motioned for Gideon to show him a picture from his phone.

Michel studied the photo for a long time before handing the phone back. "I do remember him. I last saw him two weeks ago. He left in the morning and never came back. When we realized he wasn't returning, we charged his credit card for the days he was here."

That explains the last charges on his bill, Emily thought as Gideon asked in a friendlier tone, "Did he happen to say where he was going?"

He felt bad for the American. "I'm afraid not, Monsieur. He just gave a friendly nod on his way out. That was the last time I saw him."

"Did he seem upset or in a hurry?" Gideon pressed, desperate for any news about his nephew.

"Actually the opposite. He was happy and excited."

Definitely sounds like he wasn't running from something so maybe he left behind a clue. "Did Noah leave any personal items behind that we might be able to look at?"

There was a shake of the head. "No. We recommend taking all possessions when you leave. We provide lockers to secure valuables, but theft still occurs. It's best to take everything with you."

So much for that line of investigation. Emily absently drummed her fingers on the counter. "He was assumed to be traveling with three other men: Rolf van Grimmelshausen, a Dieter and a Sven. I'm sorry. I don't know their last names."

"You might be referring to Dieter Schmeling and Sven Ahlstrom. I have not see Rolf van Grimmelshausen for several weeks."

Emily and Gideon shared knowing looks. Rolf also seems to be missing around the same time. Perhaps the two were hiding out together…or, Emily hated to think, he was the body recovered from the Seine. A chat with the two remaining men might clear that up.

"They wouldn't still happen to be here?" she asked hopefully.

"Oui," Michel said with a nod. "They are in the common room."

She glanced over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of them. "Could we talk to them?"

Michel shrugged. The common room, like a restaurant, was open to the public so he legally couldn't bar them from entering. He pointed the two men out and returned to his duties. It took all of their restraint not to rush over. This was their first tangible lead and they didn't want to blow it by spooking them.

Just before reaching the two men watching them with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness, Emily took Gideon by the arm and said firmly, "I've got this, Gideon. You're too emotionally involved. Cool off."

Gideon huffed in frustration, but nodded his assent. Alone, Emily approached the table. "Entschuldigung. Sprichst du Englisch?" She addressed the dark haired one she assumed to be the German.

Dieter shook his head. "Nein. English not good." Then he pointed to his friend. "Sven only Swedish."

 _Wonderful,_ she thought. _This is going to be fun._ She was going to have to conduct the entire conversation in German while Dieter translated it into Swedish for Sven. And German wasn't one of her stronger languages, but it was better than her Russian. If it weren't for her regular chats with Dave's housekeeper over the last couple of months, her German would be much worse. Emily decided not to include Gideon because it would make it more complicated with everyone translating that something important could literally get lost in the translation. He won't like it, but she'll fill him in when she's done.

Emily gestured at the empty chair. "Kann ich hier sitzen?" Both men nodded. "Danke," she said, pulling it out and sitting down. Folding her hands on the table, she leaned forward with a friendly smile and started the interview.

* * *

Gideon resisted the urge to pace and to do it in Emily's line of sight so she could see how perturbed he was. He didn't appreciate being kept out of the loop. Even though he couldn't speak a word of German, he should be sitting at the table with her, feeding her questions he needed immediate answers to. And if he didn't like what he heard, he would make her probe deeper. It wasn't like he doubted her skills. Emily was a seasoned interviewer, but he had many more years of experience tucked under his belt. It was then she produced a small notebook and started jotting down notes in her undecipherable handwriting while the dark haired man gestured animatedly. _Good, she's learning something_ , he thought and wished she would hurry up and fill him in on what he had been shut out of.

After getting over the initial shock of not being invited to the party, it dawned on him that she was conversing in German, causing his eyebrows to disappear into his hairline. He was unaware that she was fluent in that language as well and made sure to ask her when she had wrapped up the interview and returned to the sidewalk in front of the hostel with him.

"I didn't know you also spoke German, Prentiss. How many other languages do you know that you haven't bothered to mention?" he accused, not even trying to keep his annoyance with her out of his voice.

Emily, for her part, didn't rise to the bait. She knew he was pissed off because she hadn't let him sit in on the interview and he had every right to feel that way. But like she had told him earlier; he was too emotionally involved and would intimidate Noah's friends to get the answers he wanted.

"I do, but I don't get many chances to use it like my other languages. Its not one of my best, but it's still better than my Russian. I suck at that one." Before he could say anything in response, she touched him on the arm. "Look, Gideon, I'm sorry I didn't include you but I hope you understand it just would have made things more difficult."

"Excuse me," he scoffed.

"You can't deny it Gideon. Not only are you emotionally charged and way too invested in the answers, but it was already language soup. If we had to add translating into English to the mix, we would have just wasted time. I asked everything we needed to ask and now that it's over, I can fill you in. I know you hate not being in control, but that's something you need to work on. I have the language skills. Sometimes, I have to make the calls and that means leaving you out."

Gideon moaned and groaned for a few minutes longer before asking, "What did you find out?"

Emily consulted her notebook. "Quite a lot. Apparently two months ago they bumped into each other in Italy and hit it off even with the language barrier. Noah knew a little German from high school, Rolf spoke fluent English and Dieter knows Swedish because his mother is from Stockholm. Sven…"

"Could we skip over the family history crap and get to the important stuff?" he huffed in annoyance.

She glared at him. "If you want to know what I've learned, then shut up. Otherwise I'm done here," she warned, threatening to flip the notebook shut and walk away.

Gideon's mouth clamped shut though his lips remained pressed in a thin, disapproving line.

"Thought so," Emily said with a hint of smugness and continued on with her recital. "They eventually made their way here to Paris. Then suddenly about three weeks before he disappeared, Noah started going off on his own."

"Did they know why?" he spoke up, figuring it was a legitimate question.

Emily shook her head. "No, he never said. He would leave early in the morning and come back late at night. They just assumed he was off sketching the architecture since they knew he liked doing that."

"That's very true," he conceded, thinking of the sketchbook found in the backpack filled with drawings. "But it's also a bit suspicious. It sounds like he could be involved in something shady."

"Agreed."

"Anything stand out about the day Noah disappeared?"

"Only that Rolf went with him. This is where things get interesting. Dieter and Sven haven't seen him since. They showed me a picture of him and he bears a remarkable resemblance to Noah. They are of similar build and height, have the same complexion and light brown hair. I think the body in the morgue is Rolf."

"Are you implying that Noah—" Gideon bristled with indignation.

"I'm not implying anything, Gideon," Emily said calmly. "I'm just saying that they looked alike so the UnSub might have mistaken Rolf for Noah and killed him."

"And Noah could have witnessed the murder and ran."

"A strong possibility. That would explain why Rolf hasn't called you back."

Gideon gestured to the hostel. "Why didn't those two speak up sooner about their missing friends?"

"Because they didn't think they were missing," Emily explained. "Dieter and Sven were thinking about going to London, but Rolf and Noah didn't want to go yet. When they didn't come back, the two assumed they went somewhere else so they took the Chunnel over to London. They returned a few days ago, expecting to find Rolf and Noah here."

"And they didn't." Gideon blew out a breath of frustration. "It was good to hear all that, but we still don't know where Noah went after he left here."

"True," she agreed with a nod. "But we know a lot more than we did an hour ago. We're making progress, Gideon."

He knew she was right, but it sure didn't feel like it. "So what do we do now, Prentiss?"

Emily looked up and down the street, halfheartedly looking for their tails and saw no sign of them. Sebastien's erratic driving had done its job as she thought it would. "We canvass the area. Someone else had to see him."

* * *

Emily arrived at the designated spot in front of the hostel with a few minutes to spare. She wasn't surprised that Gideon wasn't already there, figuring his unfamiliarity with the area and the language barrier would slow him down some. But knowing him, he hadn't let it get in his way and kept soldiering on. Just as she was looking around for a place to rest her tired feet, her cell phone rang. Emily fished it out of her pocket and almost didn't check the screen, assuming it was Gideon calling that he was lost, but, in the end, she was glad she did. It was none other than the elusive Dr. Spencer Reid. She had tried several times to find out how his meeting with Gideon went before she left, but he had proven to be a difficult agent to pin down.

"Hey, Handsome. How are you?" she answered with a smile.

" _Emily, it's Reid_."

"I know. That's why I called you handsome."

He ignored her levity and got right to the point. _"Good. I need you to translate your notes on the Franklin case. Your handwriting is atrocious! How can we help people if we can't even read the profile you've built?"_

"What?" she stammered in confusion. "Reid, I…"

" _That's our job. You have to take it seriously. You can't just scribble words down and expect us to roll with it."_

"Reid, calm down. I'm sorry…"

He cut her off mid sentence. _"Sorry isn't good enough. These are people's lives you're messing with. You have to control that God complex of yours. You can't dictate how things should be. You can't even dictate your notes right!"_

Now she was totally lost. "What's going on, Reid? Why are you upset with me?"

" _You can't just make up the rules, Emily. It's not right."_

As he continued to berate her over something so inconsequential like handwriting, Emily searched her memory for what she might have done to piss him off. When she returned their relationship was on shaky ground, Reid hurt that he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her and that her death had been faked. But that was months ago and she thought they had worked through it. If it wasn't that, it must be something more current, possibly in the last couple of weeks. Then it struck her.

"Is this about Gideon?"

Reid's voice rose several octaves and she knew she had hit the nail on the head. _"What if I didn't want to talk to him? I got over it. I put him behind me."_

"No you didn't, Reid. You only think you did."

" _There's that know-all, see-all, God complex of yours. You don't know everything."_

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose as she repressed a sigh. Now was not the time or place for this particular argument. This conversation should be handled face to face and in private, not on the streets of Paris where anyone could hear.

"Did you say the Franklin case?" she asked, taking the high road and not responding to his insults. That's what Reid did when he was hurt or struggling; he avoided dealing with it and took potshots at those involved or who was convenient.

" _Yes."_

"Then grab pen and paper or limber up your fingers," she said and proceeded to give him the profile she had built in exacting detail. She made sure to cross all her 'T's' and dot her 'I's' so he didn't have anything else to complain about.

When she finished, Reid grunted his thanks and hung up, leaving Emily staring at the dead phone. "God complex?" she questioned.

"God complex is an unshakable belief portrayed by unfailing inflated feelings of personal privilege, ability or infallibility," Gideon supplied, coming up behind her.

Emily scowled at him. "I know what it is."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I didn't," she said, shoving her phone back in her pocket. "It was the conclusion I had come to on a consult that Reid took over from me. He just called to verify a few things since he was having some difficulty reading my notes."

"I can understand that. I've seen your handwriting," he said matter of factly.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, shooting him a second dirty look. " I only write that way when the notes are for my eyes only. I write much neater when someone else has to read them."

"I believe you, Prentiss." Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she wondered if he actually did or if he was just humoring her. "How is Spencer?" he asked, changing from one sticky subject to another.

"Uh…he seems fine. I really didn't get a chance to talk with him before I left." The little stinker had avoided her like the plague.

"Good. I was a little worried about him."

"On the plane you said the meeting went fine. Now you're saying it didn't?" she accused, her big sister protectiveness kicking in.

Gideon frowned at the accusation and spread his hands in appeasement. "It did, but at times it was difficult and we had to work through it. It felt good for both of us to get everything out in the open."

"Good."

She was truly happy that the young genius had been able to work out some of his abandonment issues with Gideon. She only wanted to help him because he was a dear friend and knew it was still troubling him. And how does he thank her? He gets his nose out of joint and accuses her of meddling. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. It would have to hold until she returned stateside.

"It is," Gideon agreed. "Any luck on your canvassing?"

After interviewing Dieter and Sven, the two had decided to canvass the surrounding streets in hope that someone else might have seen Noah or Rolf and give them a couple of new leads. They also agreed that it would be best if they split up. They could cover more territory alone than together even though Emily had some misgivings about it since Gideon's knowledge of French was nonexistent. So she taught him a few key phrases like 'have you seen him' and 'do you speak English'. Then armed with a hastily bought French/English dictionary, she sent him on his way with the agreement that they would return to this spot in three hours time.

Emily shook her head as she gazed glumly down the street. "Not really. A few hits here and there, but nothing recent. I got the same results when I inquired about Rolf." The longer the day dragged on, the more she was convinced that the German was the John Doe in the morgue. "You?"

"Pretty much the same. Though a waitress at a small café thought she might have seen Noah and Rolf having breakfast together the day of or a couple of days before they both disappeared."

"What else did she say?" she asked, perking up at the news.

Gideon gave a helpless shrug. "I'm not sure. Her English wasn't so good and you know my French…" he tailed off.

Emily resisted the urge to grab his arm. "Do you remember where the café is?"

"Of course," he said with an indignant snort. It wasn't something he would forget. It could possibly be the last place Noah was seen.

"Take me to it."


	11. Chapter 11

Gideon was correct that the waitress had seen Noah. With him standing impatiently off to one side, Emily carefully quizzed her about that day after some encouragement. The girl, like many people, wanted to help but was hesitant about getting involved in something that really wasn't any of their business. But once Emily assured her that Noah wasn't in trouble with the law and that they were simply worried about his welfare since he hadn't been heard from in quite awhile, which was unusual for him. After that the waitress was a regular chatterbox.

"Well what did she have to say?" he asked in a more conciliatory tone after Emily had thanked the waitress and gave her a tip for her time.

Emily gestured that they continue strolling along the boulevard as they talked. She knew he was working hard to rein in his impatience and figured the walking would burn off his excess energy, allowing him to stay focused on the task on hand and not jumping down her throat over every minor incident.

"She did confirm that she did wait on Noah and Rolf on the day we assumed they disappeared on. I showed her the group photo of the guys Dieter emailed me and she pointed both of them out."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Your own little version of a police lineup?"

"Yup," she agreed with a smile of her own. "And it worked too. I got a positive ID on both. Anyway, she said they were getting along just fine. No raised voices or heated words; just some joking and good nature ribbing. They were friendly to her and she thought they were cute…very cute."

"Did she happen to overhear what they had planned for the day, like where the hell they were going?" It was becoming crystal clear to him that the waitress knew absolutely nothing and was wasting their precious time. She was only doing it because she enjoyed being the center of attention. If he had vocalized any of his sentiments, Emily would have scolded him for jumping to conclusions before hearing al the facts.

"Unfortunately no, but she did say that Rolf was the first to leave. About five minutes later Noah ran off after him. And before you ask, she didn't know the reason why."

"What good is she?" Gideon huffed, his frustration showing again.

"Well she did drop a little tasty tidbit. Remember that case we had in New Orleans?" He nodded. "What was the one thing we determined that would make a guy separate from his friends?"

His eyebrows rose. "A girl. There was a girl with them."

"Yes and she appears to be with Noah. She didn't leave when Rolf left."

Gideon felt a surge of hope and excitement. Finally another tangible lead. "Please tell me you got her description and better yet…her damn name."

Emily hated to disappoint him, but she about to so she didn't hold back. "Sort of and no." She ignored his darkening face as she scratched her ear. "The waitress only had eyes for the guys. She could describe them to a T, down to the mole on Rolf's elbow. Their female companion was of average height, average complexion, any length blonde hair and no idea on eye color. If she heard the name, she can't remember what it was."

"So that leaves us with over the half of the female population of Paris to weed out," he groused.

"I'm afraid so," Emily agreed, flipping her notebook shut and stowing it in her pocket. "I'm willing to bet it's a local girl and they could be holed up in her apartment until everything blows over."

"That doesn't help."

"I know."

Gideon stopped in the shade of an awning and stared off into the distance, gazing at nothing in particular as he shifted through the myriad of thoughts swirling in his head. Emily stood quietly at his side, equally discouraged at the lack of progress. They had numerous sightings, but no concrete evidence pointing to Noah's exact location. Gideon also had sent multiple text and voice messages to the disposable number in hope of getting a response, but nothing so far. The phone was either still turned off or thrown away.

"So what do you want to do?" she asked, eventually breaking the silence and tossing the ball back in his court. Noah was his nephew so he was the one to make the final decisions. "Do you want to keep looking or should we head back to the hotel and let the police handle it from here?" The second suggestion left a bad taste in her mouth. Emily hated giving up, but they were quickly running out of options and didn't have the clout of the Paris police, or the Bureau for that matter, to back them up.

Gideon was of like mind and quickly answered. "We keep canvassing in this area. There's bound to be others who have seen Noah. I'm not leaving Paris until every stone had been turned over, even if it takes me months to do it."

Emily was relieved to hear him say that. She wasn't ready to quit…yet. "I'll stay as long as it is feasibly possible for me to do so. Hotch is going to need me back at some point."

"Understandable." He blew out a breath. "Lets stay together this time. We may cover less ground, but we won't have to do any backtracking because I needed you to interpret. And if we're real lucky and find some cameras, you might be able to sweet talk them into allowing us to view the video."

"Works for me, but first I need to buy a disposable phone. I want to call in an anonymous tip about Rolf. The poor boy needs to be identified so he can go home to his family."

* * *

After placing the call, Gideon was amazed at how easily Emily disassembled the cell phone and discretely disposed of its remains along their route. He wanted to ask where she had learned that particular skill, it wasn't something generally taught at the FBI Academy. Most people would simply toss the whole phone in the trash, but she wiped each piece clean of fingerprints before dropping them in separate trashcans. It was like she was making sure the phone and the call couldn't be traced back to her in any way. But in the end he didn't because he didn't want to anger her again and have her change her mind about staying. He sorely needed her; he needed her level headedness to keep his own anger and impatience in check. Of course, he would never tell Emily any of this because it was something he never would do.

They resumed their canvassing and kept doggedly at it until darkness descending forced them to stop. Their sources began to dry up as many of the places that didn't depend on the Paris nightlife shuttered their doors. Emily and Gideon were disappointed that all their effort had generated very little results. All they got were a few vague sightings, and, when allowed to view video surveillance, the images were too grainy to make a positive identification. Defeated but vowing to return tomorrow to pick up where they had left off, they decided to grab a bite to eat; neither had eaten since breakfast, before heading back to the hotel. Dinner with confit de canard, red Bordeaux and a French strawberry pie, was a quiet affair. Each was so lost in their own thoughts that the only brief conversation was over how good the food was. The silence continued on Sebastien's somewhat more sedate drive back to the hotel and on the elevator ride up to the suite. There they said their goodnights and turned in, each hoping for a restful sleep.

* * *

Emily stood in the shadows staring at the old apartment building across the street. She had no clue why she returned to this particular place. She thought she had seen the last of it when she hastily packed up to return to the States to rescue Jack from Doyle. Yet here she was. After a long and frustrating day turning over every stone in a futile search for Noah. She had been unable to relax and go to sleep. Swimming laps in the hotel pool hadn't been therapeutic this time around. After tossing and turning for two hours, she gave up and decided to get some fresh air, hoping it would settle her mind. Emily threw on some sweats and took the stairs down to the lobby instead of the elevator, figuring if one of their tails were still there, he would be watching the bank of elevators. She poked her head around the corner and there was not a soul loitering in the lobby, only the night clerk on duty at the front desk. Passing by she gave him a friendly wave and slipped out into the Paris night.

She had only planned on taking a walk around the block, but her feet had other ideas as her mind wandered back to Noah. Of their own accord they had brought her back here. Why? To confront her past? Or simply curiosity about the place she had been holed up in for two of the longest months of her life? It was probably a little of both, she decided. Maybe if she faced some of her demons that dwelled here, some of the nightmares would go away or, at least, lose some of their power over her.

As she continued to study the building, it occurred to her that it seemed more decrepit than she remembered; like it had aged considerably in the six months she had last been here. Emily's hand slipped into the pocket of her jacket to wrap her fingers around the keys within it. She hadn't even realized she still had them until she was digging through her go bag looking for the charger to her cell phone. She pulled them out and gazed thoughtfully at them, wondering if they still worked. Odds were that the locks had been changed long ago, but as her eyes drifted up to the windows of her old apartment, Emily sensed the air of abandonment permeating it.

"Just go back to the hotel, Emily," she said aloud, but found herself walking across the street and up the partially opened door.

Emily hesitated for a brief second before stepping inside. The vestibule was still dingy, but now trash had accumulated in all of the corners. The Super might have been completely worthless in regards to getting things fixed, but she always kept the vestibule swept. She could never figure out why the woman did it because it only showed off the peeling and flaking paint and the carpet so worn, you could actually see all the holes. Now it appeared the Super didn't care how it looked to potential renters. Before she could chicken out, Emily slowly made her way up the stairs, remembering where to place her foot on each tread so that it wouldn't creak.

When she reached the fourth floor, Emily realized she didn't need the keys to get into her old apartment. The door hung askew on one hinge from being kicked in, which was quite an accomplishment since it was solid oak. Reaching down, she brushed back her jacket and wrapped her hand around the grip of the Glock resting comfortably on her hip. Even though she had all the necessary paperwork to legally carry her weapon in France, this was the first time she removed it from the suite's safe except at night when she slept with it on the nightstand. In this neighborhood it was better to err on the side of caution.

The place was a disaster zone. Whoever had broken in had trashed it while searching for anything of value. Surprisingly they had even found her hiding spot under the floorboards of the closet. The few pieces of furniture had been overturned, the cabinets in the tiny kitchen open and their contents dumped on the floor. It was obvious from the amount of dust covering all available surfaces; nobody had occupied the apartment after she had left. That feeling she had on the street was true, the building was now abandoned. Emily righted the armchair by the windows she had spent many a sleepless night sitting in staring out into the darkness and sat down. As her troubled gaze drifted over the sad apartment, she wondered why she had even bothered to come back here.

After several minutes of deep contemplation, Emily had her answer…well she hoped she did. Seeing the apartment the way it was now, kind of represented how she felt then; like a real mess. When she was holed up here, things were tough and there was no end in sight for her misery. She felt so alone, so isolated from friends and family and everything she held dear to her. All she had for company were her own sad thoughts and the fear that Doyle would find her and finish the job. On her really bad days, she wished he had. The person she was then wasn't one she ever wanted to be again. It was dark and depressing, a far cry from where she was today. So much had changed for her. She still had her moments, but she had grown and learned not to focus on that time in her life. She was back among the people who cared about her and was moving past that. Maybe that was why she ended up there today. Emily needed to see what became of her past and to say goodbye to it.

With that thought the apartment ceased to represent her personal hell for two months and morphed into simply a place to hang your hat when not at work. It no longer held any power over her. Feeling lighter in mind than she had in a long time, Emily rose to her feet. It was time to go home. As she was leaving, her eyes fell on the books she had left behind. They laid scattered over the floor, their pages bent and spines broken. They didn't deserve this fate. They may not be valuable to the thieves who had broken in, but they were to others who cherished them for what was between their covers. Emily scrounged around until she found a bag to put them in, planning on taking them back to the hotel. If she couldn't get them to fit in her carryon bag, she would ship them back to the States like she had done with the gifts for her friends. The books would make nice additions to her future library in her new house. Dropping the keys she no longer needed on the counter, Emily walked away from a piece of her past with her head held high and with no regrets. The time she had spent here had made her a stronger woman and she would always be thankful for that.

* * *

Capitaine Dubois paused outside the door to compose himself. He hated coming here with every being of his body, but when he was ordered to make an appearance, you did so without hesitation. The man he personally reported to was not one to be trifled with. Precisely on the hour, he knocked on the door and waited for the invitation to enter. When he received it, he marched into the office and up to the desk, standing stiffly at attention with his hands clasped behind his back.

The man seated behind the large desk ignored him as he scanned the report on his blotter. When he was finished, he took off his reading glasses, leaned back in his custom leather chair and steepled his fingers. "Bonjour Capitaine." a man greeted. "I hope you come to me with good news. What is the status of our… problem?"

"Monsieur," Dubois said with a sharp nod. "We have learned the identity of the body we uncovered, the one once believed to be Noah Eisenberg is a Rolf von Grimmelshausen."

"A native?"

"No, a German national."

"How did this information come about?"

"Anonyme pointe."

"Do we know who this anonymous person is?"

"No, Monsieur. All we know for certain that it was a woman with an indeterminable accent"

The man behind the desk began tapping his fingers together in a way that Dubois found a tad unnerving. "What about the Americans that came to view the body?"

"I put my best people on the Americans. They were to follow them and report back, just like we discussed."

"Ah, magnifique. Tell me they led you to the boy." He received no answer. "Dubois? Tell me you know where the boy is!"

The Capitaine stared at a spot on the wall. "I am sorry, but no. The man and woman both lost their tails. Then they got in a car with a crazy driver," he said. "Fou. Absolument fou."

The man felt his anger rising. He expected results from his men, not excuses. "This is not what I like to hear."

"I know, Monsieur. I will find him."

"It is of the utmost importance that he be found and brought to me."

"I understand, Monsieur."

He leaned forward to rest his now folded hands in the center of the desk, eyes stony and voice flat. "No, I don't think you do. I am sorry to say, Capitaine Dubois, that if you are incapable of doing this job, I will have to find someone better suited to get things done." It sounded more like a threat than a kind push to get on top of things. "Get me results now, or I find someone who will."


	12. Chapter 12

The two police officers approached the old man lovingly polishing a very battered Citroen. "Monsieur Charbonneau?" they asked, flashing their badges.

"Oui?" Sebastien answered, dropping the polishing rag on the hood and giving the two men his full attention.

"We have a few questions about the two Americans you gave a ride to yesterday. It appeared that you knew the woman."

Emily had warned him that there was a strong possibility that he would find the flics on his doorstep wanting to know where he had taken them and that he shouldn't lie…too much to them. Just stick to the main facts and fudge the rest. He was not bothered by her odd request. He would do anything for his petite singe.

"Of course I know Mademoiselle Prentiss," he huffed in annoyance. "I've known her since she was une petite fille. Mon pere worked for her grand-mere at their family winery in the Savoie region. Mon frere Robert still runs it for her mere. Retrouvialles wines. They make a superb Roussette de Savoie. You should try it."

"So you are an old friend."

"Did I not just say that?"

The older of the two cops frowned. "So the two of you just happened to run into each other in the lobby of the hotel?"

"No. Mademoiselle Prentiss, Emily, called to see if I was free to give and her friend Monsieur Gideon a tour of our fine city. He has never been here before."

"But she has. Why didn't she just do it herself?"

Sebastien wagged a finger at them. "Because I know this city like the back of my hand. I know all the unique places of interest. She does not. Besides it is more fun and relaxing when someone else is doing the driving." He grinned at that.

The younger cop spoke up. "So at her request, you drove all the way from the winery to act as the Mademoiselle's personal driver?"

Sebastien stared at him like he had just sprouted a second head. _Where did they find this twit,_ he wondered. _It was obvious he didn't think before opening his mouth. If he had, he would have realized how asinine his question really was_. The look on his partner's face showed he could believe it.

"No," he answered, speaking like he was talking to his four-year-old great grandson. "I drove from here. My home. Where I have lived for they past fifty years."

The young cop had the good sense to look abashed. "Oh, right."

His partner stepped back into the fray, flipping his notebook to a clean page. "Monsieur, would you be able to tell us all the places you visited?"

"Why all this interest?" he asked with fake confusion. "Are they in some sort of trouble?" He didn't expect to get a straight answer and he wasn't disappointed.

"I really can't say. Police business, you know."

"I understand," Sebastien said with a shrug and started rattling off all the places that popped into his head.

Per Emily's instruction, after dropping the two off in front of the hostel, he had driven all over Paris, making sure he appeared on as many traffic cameras as he possibly could. The flics were going to drive themselves crazy trying to discern a pattern out of his intentional wandering. His petite singe even promised to pay any traffic fines he might incur on her behalf. Sebastien wasn't worried about that; speeding tickets were a monthly event. His wife, Marie, continued to marvel each time one came how he avoided having his license suspended. You just had to know the right people.

When Sebastien finished his recitation, the older officer closed his notebook and gave a polite nod. "Thank you, Monsieur Charbonneau. You have been very helpful."

"I have?"

"Oui. If we have any further questions we shall contact you."

"I have one more question," the younger one piped up. "Why were you driving like that?"

"Like what?" Sebastien asked in genuine confusion.

"Like a madman," he said in exasperation. "You were weaving in and out of traffic, ran a red light and were speeding."

"Because that is the way I always drive."

The two officers had no answer to that.

* * *

Emily stumbled out of her bedroom in desperate need of coffee, preferably the whole pot. Her restless sleep and the late night escapade made her one tired, and slightly on the cranky side, agent. Not seeing Gideon in the main part of the suite and noting the door to his bedroom was stood open, she assumed he had gone down to the restaurant and headed that way. Suddenly he popped up behind the kitchen counter, giving her quite a fright.

"Good morning, Prentiss."

"Shit, Gideon!" she swore, jumping back and clutching at her chest to still her rapidly beating heart. "You scared the crap out of me."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was just retrieving the knife I dropped." He held up the utensil as evidence.

"That's okay. No harm, no foul." Well that took care of her needing a whole pot of coffee. She was now wide awake. "Planning on having breakfast up here?"

"Why not?" he shrugged as he washed off the knife. "We have plenty of pastries left over from yesterday."

"Sounds good to me. I'll rustle us up some coffee."

Gideon waited for Emily to pick up the suite phone and dial room service to ask the question that has been bugging him all morning while she was sleeping. If he caught unaware, she might give him an honest answer, blurting it out before she had time to think about it.

"Where did you go last night?"

Emily stilled and then slowly set the handset back in its cradle. "Last night?"

"Yes. Last night."

She turned to face him. "I went and swam some laps in the hotel pool. It helps me to relax so I can sleep better." And keep the nightmares at bay, she silently added.

"That I know. I'm talking around midnight when I went in and saw the empty bed."

Her eyes flashed with anger and indignation. "What the hell were you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night? Spying on me?"

He was unrepentant about crossing her personal boundaries. "I was worried about you. I thought you might have another nightmare so I decided to check on you and much to my surprise, you weren't there."

"You needn't worry. I couldn't sleep so I decided to take a walk around the block. I thought the fresh air would clear my head," she answered truthfully. That had been her intention. She couldn't help it if her feet had had something else in mind.

"You were gone for close to three hours. That was one really long block you walked around. Where did you go?" he repeated.

Damn! She hadn't heard him snoring when she had returned. That was a clear sign that he was awake, but she had been too tired to notice. She screwed up royally and now had to cover her butt.

"Look, Gideon, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine," she said calmly while inside burning with rage. "Yes I have an issue with returning to Paris, but I'm dealing with it. It's really none of your business, but I can guarantee it won't interfere in our search for Noah. He's my highest priority and I'll do everything within my powers to bring him home. You have my word."

"As you've mentioned before, Emily, we haven't talked in a long time. I don't know what your word is worth anymore. But what I do know is that you're not the same Emily I once knew. Something has changed. And it seems this place really brings that something out of you. What could have happened here all those years ago that still has a hold on you? How long has it been since you were here? A decade, two?"

Uh oh. He's calling me by my first name again. That wasn't good. Maybe if she gave him a little tidbit, he'll drop the subject. "I've spent some time in Paris much more recently," she muttered.

"How recent?"

"Recent enough…" she quipped and then cut him off before he could dig deeper. "Enough with the inquisition, I need coffee so we can get started with this day and find Noah."

He studied her for a long moment. "I suppose it'll have to do. That doesn't mean I'm letting this go, but finding Noah is what is important."

"Fair enough," Emily agreed even though she didn't and turned back to the room phone. The second she touched the handset her cell phone rang. "Damn," she swore as she fumbled for it. "I'm never going to get my coffee." Only two cup in after breaking her rule of no coffee, she was already addicted to the stuff.

 _"It's on! It's on!"_ Penelope excitedly yelled before Emily even had a chance to say hello. _"It's been finally turned on."_

"Whoa, slow down, Garcia. What's been turned on?"

 _"The mystery number you gave me. Remember me telling you that I was going to put an alert on it so I would know if someone was using it?"_ She didn't wait for Emily's response, answering her own question. _"Well I did and they are."_

"That's great," she praised, finally getting a word in. "Can you trace it?"

 _"No can do. I can give you a cell tower it's pinging off of. That's still a lot of territory."_

"At least it would let us know what arrondissement it's in."

 _"Aaron dishy what?"_

Emily laughed. "Districts, Pen."

 _"Ooh."_

"What is it?" Gideon demanded, coming up to her.

"It's Garcia. She said our mystery phone has been turned on," Emily explained.

Before she could say any more, Gideon whipped out his phone and dialed the number. He stood there impatiently tapping one foot and then muttered a mild oath. "They're not answering. They're letting it go to voicemail."

"Call again and this time leave a message asking Noah to call you back or if he's uncomfortable with that, have him send you a text," she suggested.

He nodded as he hit redial and waited impatiently for the phone to rollover to voicemail. "Noah, it's Uncle Jase. Please call me back or spend me a text. I've been very worried about you."

He hung up and both stared at the phone in his hand, holding their breaths and willing it to ring or ding. Across the Atlantic Penelope, still tucked in bed with her computer on her lap and the sleep mask pushed up on her forehead, listened closely for any sound indicating what was going on over there.

Ding went the cell phone and everyone released the breath they were holding. Gideon brought up the text and read it aloud. "How do I know you're who you are?"

"He's scared," Emily observed, "and needs some reassurance."

"You're Sancho to my Don Quixote," he said as he typed with thumbs not use to texting. "We're both fans of the book."

Emily nodded and they had to wait several more painful minutes for the next text. "Oh, thank god. Uncle Jase, I think I'm in trouble and could really use your help. How fast can you get to Paris?"

"I'm already here."

"You are?"

"Yes. A friend and I have been looking for you these past two days."

While he texting, Emily spoke into her phone. "We're in direct contact with Noah. Thanks for the help, Pen. I don't know what we would've done without you. It seems you cracked the case."

 _"Yay me!"_ Penelope cheered, clapping her hands. _"Is there anything else I can help with?"_

"Not at the moment. Now go back to bed. I know it's still the middle of the night there."

 _"Okay. I am still tired. You'll let me know how it all turns out?"_

"Absolutely. Thanks again."

 _"You're welcome, my raven haired warrior. Night…uh…good morning…uh whichever works. I hate time differences. They really mess me up,"_ she groused sleepily.

"Pleasant dreams," Emily wished with a laugh and hung up.

Gideon was still talking aloud to himself as he typed. "Why don't you come here to—"

"No," she interrupted, putting a hand over his phone. "I don't think that's a good idea. Odds are our shadows are still lurking in the lobby. We don't want to deliver him into their hands."

"Damn," he huffed in frustration. "You're right. We definitely do what to do that. We'll meet him somewhere else, somewhere public."

Emily thought quickly. "The Louvre. Tell him I'll meet him in the Denon wing, room 6, in front of the 'Les Noces de Cana'."

"You?" he asked with a frown. "Don't you mean us? I'm going with you. He's my flesh and blood, not yours."

"I know, but I'm the one who knows this city. That's one of the reasons you brought me along."

"I know where the Louvre is," he said angrily. "Remember I was there the other day?"

"I do. But I also know how to get around Paris without attracting attention and it's easier to do solo." Emily refrained from mentioning that the CIA had trained her in the art of evasion. He wasn't around when her past history and CIA shit hit the fan and she wasn't about to read him in on it now. Besides it was still classified and he didn't have the proper clearance for it. Hell…he didn't have any clearance. "I'll meet up with Noah and convince him to accompany me to the American Embassy. You can join us there."

"And if he doesn't want to?"

Emily blew out a breath. "Then I'll bring him back here where he'll be safe and let his Uncle Jase talk some sense into him."

Her attempt to ease the tension filling the room failed. Gideon crossed his arms and glared at her. "That all sounds fine and dandy, but what exactly am I supposed to be doing while you're gallivanting about the city like a spy?" She winced at how close he had just come. "Sit here and twiddle my god damn thumbs?"

Emily would have paid good money to see that. "No," she said, keeping the sarcasm out of her voice. "You're the decoy. You're going to lure our two shadows out of the lobby and keep them distracted long enough for me to slip in and out unnoticed." She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Noah was going to refuse to go with her to the embassy and she would be forced to bring him back here. If he had thought it was safe to go the embassy, he would have done so weeks ago.

"I can do that," he agreed, slightly mollified by her suggestion. Now that he had a job to do some of his irritation faded. "But I don't think I'll be able to keep them occupied for the entire time you're gone."

'You don't have to. When I'm ready to come in, you can go back out and take them on another little trip."

Gideon gave it some serious thought and then slowly nodded. "I'm not happy about being relegated to the sidelines like an overwrought parent, but I'll do it."

Because you're too personally involved while I'm not, she thought. "Great. Give Noah my name and description and tell him I'll meet him in two hours." That will give her plenty of time to get there and scope out the place. It has been years since she has been there. When you're living in fear for your life, hiding from a man determined to snuff you out, you didn't go looking at great works of art. You kept your head down and hid. Much like what Noah was doing.

When Gideon had sent the text and got the acknowledgement, he gave her a questioning look. "Why did you pick that particular wing and room for the meeting?"

"It's the same room the Mona Lisa is in and it's always packed to the gills with tourists. It's the perfect cover."

* * *

Emily made it to room 6 of the Denon wing of the Lourve with plenty of time to spare. She found a spot off to one side of the giant painting that afforded her the best views of all the entrances and kept her from getting trampled by the gawking tourists. Now all she had to do was to wait for Noah to show. Clutched in her hand was her phone with the most current picture of him on the screen that she compared to every young man who entered the room. If she weren't so focused on the task at hand, Emily would have taken some time to wander around the space taking in all of the artwork.

So far their plan has gone off without a hitch. In the lobby Gideon pulled off an Oscar winning performance. They had decided that like yesterday morning, he would go out to the local patisserie to get breakfast and coffee. The only difference was that he stopped directly in front of the two men they deemed to be their shadows, to take a fake phone call from her. In it she supposedly wasn't feeling good and wanted him to pick up a few things from the pharmacy. He said it was no problem and that she should stay in bed and drink plenty of water. He was so convincing that Emily, in her place of concealment, put her hand to her forehead to check if she had a fever. Their tails bought Gideon's act hook, line and sinker and followed him out like two eager puppies.

She let ten minutes pass to give Gideon time to get some distance from the hotel and to make sure there wasn't a third tail they had decided to tack on after yesterday's escape. Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, Emily emerged from the stairway where she was hiding and slipped out on to the streets of Paris. She intentionally took the roundabout way to the Louvre, double back over her tracks multiple times to be on the safe side. Once she was positive she had shaken any potential tails, Emily hailed a cab for the rest of the trip. She could have called Sebastien, but as she was leaving she got a text from him telling her of the police visit and knew she couldn't involve him any further.

As the appointed time quickly approached, Emily became more alert as she tied a colorful scarf around the base of her ponytail. Noah had been told to look for it, making it easier for him to identify her. Even though she had a picture of him, Emily almost missed him the first time. Noah had dyed his brown hair blonde and was wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Luckily for her, the Gideon family nose gave him away. On his arm was a pretty brunette, not the blonde he was last seen with unless she had also dyed hers. Both were looking nervously around, trying to spot her, but unable to do so due to the large crowd milling around.

Emily decided it was best for her to approach him. She pulled her creds out of her jacket pocket as she weaved through the mass of humanity. She stopped at his side, discretely held up her badge and cleared her throat to let him know she was there.

"Hi, Noah. My name is…"

That was as far as Emily got. Noah jumped in surprise and did something she wasn't expecting. He ran.


	13. Chapter 13

Noah bolted, but he didn't get very far. Almost immediately, running into an immoveable object; namely a three hundred pound man who barely blinked when hit at ramming speed. Once Emily got over her initial shock, she found it quite comical the way Noah bounced off the man like a racquetball bouncing off the wall. One moment he was on his feet, the next he was flat on his ass and wondering what the hell had just happened. The wall of a man shot Noah a disproving look before moving on to the next painting.

She hurried over and took him by the arm. The unidentified girl did the same with his other arm. Emily couldn't quite keep the laughter out of her voice as they helped him to his feet. "Noah, are you alright?"

He finally got a good look at her and realized he had just run away from the one person sent to help him. Embarrassment crept up his neck to his ears. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just felling really stupid at the moment, Agent Prentiss."

"It happens to the best of us. And over here I'm just Emily."

"Noah," he said, shaking hands with her and nodding to the girl standing quietly at his side with her arm through his. "And this is Amie. Amie Beauchene, my girlfriend."

"Bonjour," the girl said in greeting.

"Bonjour." Emily looked around, not feeling comfortable having a chat in the middle of the room. It was impossible to watch every direction at one time. "Let's find a place that's a little more private to talk."

Both agreed with the suggestion and let Emily lead them over to a corner where she stood with her back to the walls. Now she could easily see anyone approaching. She was so busy scanning the crowd that it took a minute for it to sink in that Noah was talking to her. "I'm sorry," she hastily apologized. "What were you saying?"

"I was asking where Uncle Jase is."

"Jas…Gide…your uncle," she stumbled over what to call Gideon in front of his nephew. The first two didn't sound right. "Is back at the hotel and will be meeting up with us at the embassy once I text him and let him know I have you."

"I can't," he blurted, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

"You can't what?" she asked in confusion. "See your uncle or go to the embassy?"

"The embassy. I can't go there."

"Why not? It's the safest place for you to be right now."

"I…I just can't," he finished lamely.

Emily looked out over the tourists circulating around the room, starting to feel too exposed. They were wasting precious time. She took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Look, Noah, I'm going to be blunt with you. The police consider you to be a person of interest in Rolf's murder—"

"I didn't kill him," Noah squeaked.

At his outburst several sets of eyes turned in their direction. "Lower your voice," Emily warned and then rested a calming hand on his arm. "We know you didn't do it, but we don't have time to discuss it in detail. I need to get you to the embassy and let the staff handle it from there. Once you're on American soil, the police can't touch you. They'll have to go through all the proper channels to talk to you."

"Don't you think I know that? But I wasn't sure if the guy who killed Rolf knew that and be waiting for me to show up. I couldn't risk it."

"So I took him to my friend's apartment who is on an extended holiday to hide until Noah could figure out what to do next," Amie finally spoke up.

"I think Amie's ex-boyfriend hired the guy to take me out."

"He's very jealous."

Wonderful. Let's toss a jealous boyfriend into the mix. But when she thought about it, it didn't make a lot of sense. Jealous boyfriends don't hire someone to do the dirty work, they usually do it themselves to show their dominance. I could be another piece to the puzzle or it could completely worthless. As much as Emily would have loved to see if it fit, now wasn't the time to try. She had other important things to do.

"Noah, is there anything I can do to convince you to accompany me to the embassy?" Emily asked one final time.

"No."

That was what Emily was afraid of. Apparently the nephew was as obstinate as his uncle. Must be a family trait. Since the embassy was out, it was time for plan B. Let Gideon talk some sense into him. At least they will be able to keep an eye on him at the hotel.

"Alright," she conceded. "We can go back to the hotel and stay until we can figure out the next step. I still prefer heading directly to the embassy without passing go."

Noah grinned in relief. "Thanks Agent…Emily for all your help."

"Don't thank me yet," she said as she led them to the nearest exit, wary dark brown eyes scanning everyone and everything. "Save it for when we get you out of this mess."

* * *

They took a cab back to the hotel, but the two youngsters were a bit confused when Emily had the driver drop them off a couple of blocks from the hotel. When they pressed her about it, all Emily said was that it was better to err on the side of caution. She led them on a round about route to a less used side entrance and sent Gideon a text that she and party were there and needed a second distraction. With Noah and Amie shifting restlessly behind her, Emily watched from their place of concealment as Gideon strolled purposely out of the elevator and the same two tails falling into step behind him. Now wanting to risk running into another cop, they took the stairs. By the time they reached the eighth floor, the only one not doubling over and panting for breath was Emily. For once she was thankful for the months of physical therapy she had endured for her shoulder and hip. It had left her in pretty good shape. The long walks with Mudgie had also helped.

Gideon returned forty minutes later and when he saw his nephew safe and apparently sound, he face split into a wide grin. "Noah."

"Uncle Jase."

The two men embraced, patting each other on the back while holding on for dear life. Off to one side Emily watched the reunion over the rim of her coffee cup with a tender smile gracing her lips. It was nice to see this side of Gideon he rarely let show: he warm and fuzzy side. The only times she had seen it was when he was interacting with kids while they were on a case. Beneath his gruff exterior and bad manners, he has a soft spot for children. When they had entered the suite, her two companions had fallen upon the fresh pastries arranged on the table like a pack of starving animals and Emily finally got that jolt of coffee she had a hankering for all morning. She was now on her second cup.

"How did you get here so fast?" Noah asked once they had separated, but had remained within arms length, gazing in wonder at each other. "I only sent that text a couple of days ago."

"I was already preparing to fly to Paris when I received it."

From there Gideon went on to explain that he had volunteered to identify his body when his mother was incorrectly notified of his death. How he drafted Emily into helping because of their past working relationship and her language skills and her intimate knowledge of the city and country. And finally he revealed all the steps of the investigation they conducted to locate him, including Emily getting extra help from Garcia and the Ambassador.

When Gideon finished, Noah sagged into a chair, eyes wide in disbelief. "Oh my god! I really need to call Mom. She must be worried sick."

"That's the understatement of the year," Gideon told his nephew with a smirk.

"I had no idea the cops had found Rolf's body and assumed it was me."

"Your passport was found with the body so they naturally jumped to the wrong conclusion that it was you. At the time it was the only way to identify the body."

Noah winced as a not too pretty picture came to mind. "He was in that bad of shape?" Gideon nodded. "Do they even know it was Rolf?"

"They should," Emily spoke up. "I phoned in an anonymous tip yesterday."

"Good." Noah felt so guilty that his German friend had died in his place. He was a great guy and he would be sorely missed. When this was all over he was going to try to visit or call his parents to express his condolences. Hopefully it would stop the nightmares plaguing his sleep.

Gideon pulled out a chair and sat down next to him, startling him out of his dark thoughts. "Noah," he asked in a soft voice, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"I'll do my best." Noah took a deep breath to center himself and spoke slowly as the traumatic event played out before his mind's eye.

It had started out a normal morning. He wanted Rolf to meet Amie so the young German had gladly accompanied him to the sidewalk café where she was waiting. The two hit it off from the start and were soon conversing like two people who have known each other for years, not for only a few minutes. The service wasn't the greatest because the waitress was more focused on them than on her job, to the point of completely ignoring Amie's presence. After an hour of good company and poor service, Rolf excused himself, citing he had an appointment he couldn't miss even though the couple knew he was leaving so that the two could be alone. Grabbing his backpack, Rolf gave them a conspirator wink before saying he'll see him back at the hostel that night. Not long after the German youth had left, he and Amie decided that they should get going. She had a few places she thought he would love to see.

"It was when I was reaching for my backpack to get out my wallet that I realized Rolf had taken mine by mistake. They're very similar in size and color except that mine has two reflective strips of tape down the sides. If you're not paying close attention it's easy to get them mixed up. We've already done it a couple of times. Without thinking, I hurried after him hoping he hadn't gotten very far or realized his mistake an was on his way back to exchange the backpacks."

Luckily Rolf had told him where he was going so he rushed off in that direction. As he passed an alley, a flash of movement caught his eyes. He backed up, took a few steps in and peered into the shadows. What he saw chilled him to the bones, freezing him where he stood. Rolf was struggling with a man dressed in dark clothing in front of a parked car. When he looked closer, he realized Rolf was fighting to free himself from the man's clutches. There was a cord wrapped around his neck strangling him. Noah wanted to rush in and help, but the fear of it happening to him was stronger. Helplessly he watched the life fade from his friend's eyes. When Rolf went limp, the killer popped the trunk of the car and shoved the body in. The man turned…

"And then I got the hell out of there," Noah concluded with a shudder.

"That's when he ran into me," Amie said, picking up the story. "He ran off so fast from the café, I was left to settle the bill. By the time I caught up, he was as white as a sheet, mumbling over and over that Rolf was dead and that we had to hide. So I took him to my friend's apartment and that's where we've been since." She laid a hand on his shoulder. He reached up to put his over her and gave her a grateful smile.

Emily finished her coffee and set down the empty cup. "It didn't occur to either of you to go to the police and report what you have seen?"

A look passed between the younger adults that weren't missed by the two seasoned profilers. They were hiding something. Noah nodded. "It did, but I was afraid they would blame it on me simply because I'm an American."

"You are their number one suspect because it was your backpack that was found with the victim," Gideon pointed out, rising to his feet. "And you ran. You should have used that brain god has given you and gone directly to the American embassy. Wasn't the first thing you were told when traveling abroad was to go to the embassy when you think you are in trouble?"

Emily raised her eyebrows fractionally. Gideon had taken on all the characteristics of an angry father. Brow furled, eyes glaring and hands on his hips with feet spread. And Noah was acting the pouting teenager with his arms crossed defiantly across his chest while staring at the floor. Everything Gideon had said she had agreed with, but didn't think it was her place to voice them.

"Yes," Noah grumbled.

"Then why didn't you?"

Noah jumped to his feet. "I was scared, alright? I didn't think," he all but shouted.

The two men stood staring at each other and Emily knew it was time to step in before this turned into a full-blown argument. It wouldn't accomplish anything. "Gentlemen, what's done is done," she said, playing the role of peacemaker. "All that matters is the here and now."

Both nodded. "She's right, Uncle Jase."

"She usually is," Gideon commended.

Emily ignored the compliment and turned her attention to the French girl standing awkwardly off to one side. Her earlier comments were nipping at the corners of Emily's mind, but until now, she hadn't been able to pursue them to see how they fit into this puzzling mess.

"Amie, back at the Louvre, you mentioned an ex-boyfriend could be involved in this and how jealous he could be."

"Uh..oui. I guess I did," she responded.

"And Noah thinks he hired the guy who ended up killing Rolf."

"Right…that's right."

"You see, I don't quite buy that. Jealous boyfriends don't farm out their dirty work. They personally like beating the crap out of a potential rival. It's a way to show their dominance. I don't think you're telling us the whole truth."

Noah opened his mouth to defend her, but Gideon shushed him. He was very curious to see where Emily was going with this. If it turned out this girl was the reason for this whole mess, he would personally strangle her.

"Did he hurt you? Physically?"

Amie quickly shook her head. "Never. He was always gentle and kind, but he could be possessive and controlling. I thought all men were like that until I met Noah." She beamed at him and he returned it twofold.

Emily continued to probe deeper, intent on uncovering what she was withholding from them. "So I take it he didn't take the news of the breakup very well?"

"I…didn't tell him. I just packed up my stuff and left."

Emily's eyes narrowed. The French girl was looking everywhere, but at her. She gave Amie a hard look, really reading her body language. Whatever she wasn't saying was the answer to everything. "What are you leaving out?"

"Nothing."

"It's got to be something. What is it? You know something and you're keeping it from us."

Noah couldn't stay quiet and chivalrously came to the girl's defense. "Leave her alone."

"Stay out of it, Noah," Gideon ordered. "Emily is trying to help. Let her."

"I... I... I don't know what you want me to say," Amie muttered.

"I want you to tell me the whole story. This guy is trying to kill Noah and, presumably, you as well. There's more than jealousy at play here."

"I…might have taken something besides my stuff."

"Something like…money? Valuables?"

Amie didn't want to say, but she couldn't take the intense stares from the two older adults any further. "A journal," she said softly.

"A journal?" Emily question. What was so special about a journal? "Like a diary?" The girl's face was etched with worry and shame, but not so much about the current situation as the mess she made with the guy. "A journal…like a ledger type of journal?"

"A ledger?" Amie questioned in confusion.

"Un livre criminel?" Gideon and Noah were both trying to jump in, but Emily put up a hand to stop them.

"Oui."

"Amie, who exactly is this guy?"


	14. Chapter 14

"Amie, who exactly is this guy?" Emily pressed.

The French girl shifted nervously, feeling like the ground was going to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole. "Just a guy," she hedged.

Emily stepped into her personal space, forcing the girl to take an involuntary step back. "You're lying to me. He's not just 'some guy'. There's a lot more to him. I'll ask you again…who is he?"

She swallowed hard and whispered, "Alain Renaud."

Emily blinked. The name sounded awfully familiar. She searched her memory and remembered seeing his name in the newspaper the other morning. She hadn't read the article, just skimming over it because she didn't have the slightest interest in French politics. "Did you say Alain Renaud?" Amie nodded once and dropped her eyes guiltily to the floor.

"Who is he?" Gideon demanded. Noah, standing at his uncle's side, looked equally confused.

 _Poor kid_ , Emily thought with sympathy. _He has no clue who he has gotten involved with._ She brushed a lock of hair back off her face and said, "Depute Alain Renaud is one of the most influencial members of the National Assembly."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It depends." She held out her hand. "La journal s'il vous plait."

With great reluctance, Amie pulled the journal out of her purse and wordlessly handed it over. Emily thanked her and then retreated to the sitting area for a little privacy while she looked it over. The first thing she noticed was that it was a run of the mill journal that could be bought at any bookstore, not the leather bound and monogrammed version she had been expecting. _Makes sense_ , she thought as she opened it to the first page. _If it was lost, or in this case stolen, it would be harder to trace back to him because of its plain cover._

With Emily engrossed with her reading, Gideon decided the three of them should do something productive until she finished, figuring she wouldn't be very appreciative if he huddled over her shoulder and asked countless questions. So with Amie sitting at the table, her eyes darting between Noah and Emily, Gideon had his nephew call his mother to let her know he was safe and sound. Rachel would be relieved to hear his voice and then would deliver a severe tongue lashing for scaring the crap out of her. One thing Gideon knew for certain about his sister was that she wasn't shy about expressing her feelings, having many a time been at the end of one of her tirades when they were growing up. He pitied Noah and was extremely thankful not to be in his shoes at this particular moment.

The deeper Emily got into the journal, the more disturbed she grew. When she had read enough, she scrubbed her face with her hands, got up and went to rejoin the group. Three pairs of eyes watched her approach with various levels of worry.

"What's wrong?" Gideon asked, easily reading her body language.

Emily set the journal on the table and with her fingers resting lightly on the cover she addressed the young couple. "Noah, of all the pretty French girls in Paris to fall in love with, you had to pick the mistress of the most corrupt politician in the city?"

"What?" Noah spun to stare wide eyed at his girlfriend who cringed under its intensity.

"She never told you who he was?"

"No," he said with a shocked shake of his head. "She only said she had broken up with her jealous boyfriend. I had no idea he was married and that she was his…his…" Noah couldn't finish his sentence and sank down into the nearest chair.

While Noah was shocked and hurt, Gideon was just plain angry. "I knew it! This is all your damn fault. Because of your secrets my nephew wouldn't be in this mess right now. Was this all some fun game to you?"

"No," she wailed. "I love him!"

"Who? Noah or your lover?"

"Uncle Jase…" Noah protested, coming to Amie's defense even after she had lied to him.

"Shut up, Noah. Who do you love?"

Amie grew a little backbone and met Gideon's angry gaze for the first time. "Noah. I love him with all my heart. I didn't know I could feel that way until I met him."

"I'm not sure I believe you. After all you're nothing but a high price call girl."

Emily stepped in to lay a calming hand on his arm while Amie stared at him in confusion, unfamiliar with the term. "Enough, Gideon," Emily counseled. "What's done is done so there's no purpose in getting angry over something we can't change. Amie is young and naïve, much like we were at that their age."

Gideon shrugged off her hand and stomped off in a huff to the window where he glared moodily at the people below on the street. Emily gazed after him for a minute before turning back to the French girl and finding Noah with an arm draped protectively over her shoulders. _Ah, young love. How quickly they forget a betrayal._

"Amie, is it safe to assume that you know nothing of Renaud's extra curricular activities?" she asked, in a calm voice in hope of easing some of the tension pervading the suite. Inside she was just as pissed off as Gideon, but now wasn't the time to let it show. The poor girl looked on the verge of tears and nothing made you feel worse than unintentionally makings someone cry.

"Oui. Alain never spoke of work," she volunteered, now feeling that the American woman was on her side. "I knew he was a member of Parliament and that was that. I didn't ask questions because it wasn't my place. I had money, a nice apartment and nice clothes."

"Call girl," Gideon grunted from by the window.

"I was very happy until…"

"Until what?" Emily prompted.

"Until he became very possessive. Wanting to know where I've been and whom I met when I wasn't with him. Then I met Noah and found out what love truly meant."

"So you decided to leave him, that I can completely understand. But why take the journal if you weren't aware of his illegal dealings?"

Amie gave her a crooked smile. "Because I knew it was important to him since he carried it everywhere with him. I asked him why once and all he said it was safer than a computer that can always be hacked." A hurt look flirted across her face. "Then he angrily told me never to mention it again."

Emily nodded in understanding. "It was your insurance policy."

Amie frowned in confusion. "Insurance policy? I'm unfamiliar with the phrase. Is it some type of American saying?"

"It means that you took his journal as a form of protection. You thought if you had it in your possession and possibly threaten to give it to the press, he would leave you alone."

"Oui," she said in a small voice.

It was logical and would have worked on most cheating husbands, but judging from what she had read so far in the journal, Alaine Renaud was a ruthless man. He took what he wanted and didn't care who got hurt or died in the process. And right now he wanted his journal back at all costs. Amie, Noah and poor Rolf were expendable.

Emily picked up the book and slowly turned it in her hands. "Well, it didn't work did it, Amie? And an innocent young man died. Blackmail doesn't pay."

"Amie wasn't blackmailing this Renaud guy," Noah said in her defense. "She didn't get any money from him."

Emily repressed a sigh. The boy was hopelessly head over heels in love with her and total blind to her foolish and risky behavior. She glanced at her watch and realized how much valuable was slipping by while they hashed this all out.

"Blackmail doesn't have to be for financial gain, Noah," Gideon explained, rejoining the conversation. He was still angry as hell, but he now had it in check. "It can be used to manipulate someone into doing something against their will. Your sweet girlfriend was holding the threat of publication over Alain Renaud's head to get him to leave her alone."

"Powerful men don't sit back and accept the terms, they react…often violently," Emily added. "He figured that she would come running back to him once he killed you. Would you, Amie? Would you have gone back if Noah had died?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to her, waiting to see what her answer would be. She started to shake her head no, but reluctantly changed it to a single nod. Noah groaned in disappointment.

"I rest my case," Gideon grumbled. Now that they knew the events that had brought this trouble down on Noah, he considered the French girl inconsequential. It was time to figure out how to resolve the matter without getting any of them killed and gave Emily his full attention. "Just how corrupt is Renaud?"

Emily contemplated the journal in her hands. "He's got his finger in so many pies that I've lost count. Unfortunately we can't turn to Capitaine Dubois for help. He's firmly entrenched in Renaud's pocket."

"Then we do what you originally suggested. We'll go to the American embassy."

"That's no longer an option. Noah was right in not going there in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Gideon demanded, frowning and crossing his arms in annoyance.

"According to this, Renaud has close ties with the Milieu, especially the Corsican mafia. If he hasn't already, he'll soon bring them into play if Dubois can't produce Noah and Amie. He is bound to sic the mob on us and I don't want to be here when they do."

Gideon didn't like her ominous tone one bit. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

"Get the hell out of Dodge," she said grimly. Emily was already frustrated. She was beyond happy that they found Noah alive and well, but the shit they stepped in was only going to get deeper.

"And go where? You already said the embassy was off limits and that's where we're supposed to be safe."

"I'm thinking," Emily groaned and started to pace.

"Do you think they know we've found Noah?" Gideon questioned.

"Maybe." Emily's answer was vague, but she was thinking about their next move as she chewed on a thumbnail. Staying in the hotel wasn't an option. With Dubois playing on the wrong side of the law while action on the other, there was no telling how things would play out.

"That's all you have to say?"

"I'm thinking." She ignored the talking going on around her. Noah and Gideon were bickering about Amie and her "issues." While Emily didn't fault Gideon for feeling as he did, she knew it wouldn't help matters. So, she ignored it and put her skills to good use. "We need to get out of Paris," she said aloud to herself.

"What?" Amie asked her. Noah and Gideon fell silent.

Emily didn't answer, instead working through the details. "Renaud probably has guys at the train station, definitely at the airports. If I were him and I had his reach, I'd have every public transportation access being watched. He may try to have the major routes across the borders watched, but that is almost impossible to do since you can freely travel from country to country. Even knowing that I just don't want to take the risk."

Gideon, not taking his watchful eye off of Emily, responded, "That doesn't leave us many options."

"No… No it doesn't. But… I can use the burner phone to call one of my old contacts and get us a car. I'll have him drop it off and leave the keys so we can get out of here. I'll check us out and Gideon, you can sneak them out the back into the car."

"You have contacts?" Gideon wondered and continued to watch her work.

Emily pulled out the phone and dialed a number that she memorized long ago. To Gideon, it felt a bit cryptic. When she spoke in a language that was neither French nor English, he became even more interested in what was going on. Noah and Amie were nervously and eagerly awaiting their fates too.

"I got us a car," Emily announced as she hung up and stopped her pacing to talk with them. "It should be in the hotel parking lot within the hour. No GPS system and nothing else that can be tracked."

"Who was that?" Gideon asked Emily, a tone similar to the one he used during an interrogation.

"I told you. It was a friend."

"No, you said a contact," he corrected.

"Aren't friends contacts?" Emily agitatedly retorted, but Gideon was reading between the lines and realizing, once again, that there was so much more to Emily Prentiss than he was ever aware of.

"Does it matter?" Noah interjected. "What happens now? You said we couldn't stay here."

"And we can't."

"So?!"

"So we're leaving. Grab what we need. Pack some food."

"Where are we going?" Noah questioned.

"Leave that to me. Just get everything together."

"Okay," he nodded, taking Amie's hand and walking away. He needed to trust Emily and, for some reason, he felt he could.

Gideon took her by the arm and steered her into one of the bedrooms. "Pack food? That's what you're worried about?" he asked once he was sure Noah and Amie couldn't overhear them.

"We're going to need it eventually. It's not an easy find where we're going."

"Which is where exactly?"

"I have a few places in mind. We'll just have to see if any of Renaud's goons show up and play it on the fly."

"Why are you being so secretive?" he pressed.

"I'm not."

"You are. Contacts, burner phones, secret car drop offs and undisclosed locations."

"What's your point, Gideon?"

"I'm just pointing things out..."

"We're in a potentially dangerous situation, Gideon. A young boy died in place of your nephew. Excuse me if I want to keep things quiet." Frustrated, but not wanting the tension between them to escalate or to feel Gideon's eyes boring into her as he profiled her, Emily explained, "Look, I know what I'm doing. There are a few places in France that I have access to that are both remote and safe; exactly what we need right now. If Renaud or Dubois looked into me, some of the closer places may be off limits. They'll probably be watched, but we can't know until we know."

"So we're taking a car trip."

"And I'm driving."

* * *

Within two hours they were on the road heading south. Everything had gone smoothly. While the young couple gathered up the leftover pastries, Gideon and Emily packed their bags. Then she sent the threesome down to the car via the stairs and out the back while she checked them out. Luckily the hotel used the most current software and Emily was able to check out over the television so she didn't have to show her face in the lobby and possibly alert their shadows that they were up to something. Hopefully by the time they realized their quarry had flown the coop, they were far away and out of Renaud's long reach. Emily made two more quick calls on the burner phone before giving the suite one final sweep for any personal items forgotten in their haste. Satisfied that they hadn't left behind any telltale clues, she hurried down to the car.

As much as Emily wanted to hit the back roads, where it was easier to spot another car following them, there was one necessary detour. If they decided to cross one of the borders, they would need passports as a precaution and preferably not their own. Of course, the second Gideon found out he was in the apartment of a black market forger he blew a gasket. His suspicions got worse when he learned that Emily didn't need a new one, she already had a French passport on her person. Plus it didn't help when the forger had treated her like an old friend.

With Amie and Noah were getting their passport pictures taken; Gideon grabbed Emily by the arm and unceremoniously hauled her into a corner. "I demand to know what the hell is going on," he said in a low angry voice.

"We're getting new passports in case we get a chance to slip over one of the borders. We don't want to get caught without the proper identification," she stated the obvious. Emily knew what he was after and wasn't ready to give it to him yet.

"I know that. It's all this sudden secrecy and we agreed there wouldn't be any more secrets. First it was the contacts, burner phones, secret car drops and undisclosed locations. Now we can add fake passports and black market forgers. You didn't learn all of this subterfuge at the academy."

"Now isn't the time for this."

"I think it is," he countered.

Emily took a step closer. "Look, Gideon, I know you're angry and confused, but you'll just have to trust me on this. Like I told you earlier, I know what I'm doing so let me do it. I promise when we reach our final destination I'll answer your questions to the best of my abilities."

Gideon stared long and hard before jabbing an accusing finger at her. "I'm going to hold you to that. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you worm your way out of this."

* * *

Alain Renaud was not a patient man, not by any means, and when he wanted something done, he wanted it done well and quickly. So, when Dubois came back with news, he expected to hear mission accomplished; his little bitch and her new beau found and taken care of and his journal back in his possession. Unfortunately, that was not what he got.

"Dubois, I can tell by the look on your face that I will not like what you have to say," Renaud greeted the scared looking man as he was escorted in.

They didn't often do face-to-face meetings. It risked unveiling their covert relationship, but when times called for it, they did.

"I… I'm sorry Monsieur Renaud."

"Spit it out. What do you have for me?"

"They're gone," Dubois answered reluctantly.

"Gone?"

"Vanished. The Americans are no longer at the hotel and any sign of them is gone."

"How do they just disappear? What do I pay you for if you don't do your job?" Renaud was clearly angry, his balled fist slamming down on the arm of his chair.

"I did my job."

"If you did, we would have no problems now. The boy and Amie have not been brought to me and the Americans are nowhere to be found either. I do not call this good work."

"I'm sorry Monsieur."

Standing intimidatingly close to Dubois, Renaud said, "Sorry means nothing. You are nothing. Get out. Get out and I will find someone who can do the job right."

"Monsieur…"

Powerful voice demanding obedience, he spat, "Out!"

Dubois nodded and, with his head hung low and tail between his legs, walked out of the room. Renaud was simmering. He needed a moment to relax before he made his next move. He made a mistake leaving the job to sheer incompetents, but no longer. He wanted them all found and taken care of, and he was bringing in the big guns to make sure it happened. He picked up the phone and dialed the number that few knew.

"I need a job done and I made a mistake not asking you first. I'm calling in a favor. Do it, and consider your debt paid."

"What do you need?"

"I need a few people looked into and possibly… taken care of."

"Names?"

"Start with Emily Prentiss. She's an American with some ties to the country. I want to know everything. We'll take it from there."

"I'll get my men on it. Expect a call soon."

"Oh I do. I need this done now."

"I've always been timely. You'll get what you need."

"I know. It's been so hard to find good help. Don't let me down." Without warning, Renaud hung up. He was sure outsourcing to the mob was the right decision here. They had yet to fail him. They would do what he needed without hesitation. Knowing that, he sighed in relief, leaned back in his chair, and kicked his feet up as he awaited the call.


	15. Chapter 15

_Sorry about the delay. Life interfered big time and I had to scramble to find time to write. It was hard, but I got it done. Enjoy._

* * *

It had been a quiet few hours. After the first two, it became clear to everyone that they weren't going to get any answers from Emily. They would find out exactly where they were headed once they got there so they settled back to watch the scenery roll past the car windows except for Gideon. He took the time to really observe Emily again. She was a little tense and, given the situation, he was too, so he couldn't fault her, but there was something else there, and it has been present since they arrived in France. Now wasn't the time to bring that up though, but the car ride gave him time to think about it.

Emily, on the other hand, wasn't paying anyone any mind. Her focus was solely on getting them to their destination safely and keeping her eyes open for any tails. Just because she thought they made a clean escape, didn't mean their trail couldn't have picked up. She was aware of Gideon watching her and, likely, noticing her hyper vigilance, but it didn't matter. He would think what he wanted and she'd explain what she needed later.

The snow that had started falling when they entered the Savoie region was coming down harder and Emily was driving as carefully as she could while going as fast as she could, and as she approached their stop, she couldn't help but release the breath she seemed to be holding.

Gideon sat up straighter in his seat, reading the sign as they drove through the gate. "Retrouvialles?"

Emily corrected his pronunciation and then said, "It's my family's winery."

"You own a winery?"

They came to a fork in the road and Emily took the right hand one that led to the main house. The housing for the vintner and workers were closer to the actually winery. If it weren't for the heavy falling snow, they would have seen the neat row upon row of bare grapevines.

"Actually my mother owns it, but it's been in my family for generations."

"Nice. What types of wines do you produce?"

She kept her eyes glued to the snowy lane. "There are two whites, Roussette de Savoie Altesse and Vin de Savoie Apremont, and a red Vin de Savoie Mondeuse. Robert, Sebastien's brother, and his son Stephane is working on expanding the line with a Mondeuse Blanche and a Persan. Both grapes are either rare or hard to grow."

"So that's how you know Sebastien."

"Yeah. He prefers lawns and flower beds to growing grapes."

All conversation ceased when the car came to a stop in front of a square modest house built of the local stone, with a hipped roof, clay roof tiles and multi-paned windows with shutters. There were three windows on the second floor and one on either side of the double door. From what Gideon could see of it, he knew he liked it. They all piled out of the car and huddled around Emily as she inserted the key into the lock and turned it.

Gideon arched an eyebrow at her. "You just happen to have the key on you?"

From the humorous lilt in his voice, she knew he wasn't scolding her so she shrugged and said, "I was thinking of visiting for a few days before going home so I grabbed them before we left." Once she had gotten the okay from Hotch to go with Gideon, she spent several hours at the storage unit, where her personal belongings were still at, digging through the boxes to find the keys.

"Well I'm glad she did," Noah added as the door swung inward, "Because it's cold out here."

The rest agreed wholeheartedly and trooped inside. Again Gideon liked what he saw when she turned on the lights, especially the solid oak staircase and ceiling beams. "How old is it?"

"16th century," she said, shucking her jacket and he let out a low appreciative whistle.

While everyone was busy admiring their surroundings, Emily was noticing that the heat had been turned up. Normally when the house was unoccupied, the heat was set at a temperature that kept the pipes from freezing. She realized that it must have been Robert. When she called from the hotel, she asked that he ready the supplies she'd need to make sure she kept everyone safe. In doing so, he took it a step further and made sure they were stocked up for the big snowstorm that was coming. He knew they weren't going anywhere in that and wanted them to be prepared. The house being toasty was just one of the ways he did that. This wasn't where she had planned to end up at, but it would do for now. They would have to wait out the storm and head out when it cleared. The good news was if they were bogged down by the snow so were the men who were possibly following them.

A gentle touch to her elbow brought Emily out of her thoughts. She turned to find Gideon standing next to her. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

"I asked if you were going to make us stand in the entryway all night or show us around?"

"Oh! Right," she said with a sheepish smile.

She gave them a quick tour of the first floor, pointing out the living room and library that were accessed from either side of the entryway. A short hallway led back to the dining room that had a table that could seat twelve, a half bath, and a fully modernized kitchen that retained the charm of the original one. Upstairs Emily assigned the second largest of the four bedrooms to Gideon and Noah, another to Amie and she took the room she used growing up. It still bore the signs of her personality from the color of the walls to the sheets and comforter. She did however request that they refrain from entering the master bedroom and the wine cellar. Otherwise, they were free to roam the rest of the house.

Gideon could see where she was coming from. Even though she wasn't showing it, Emily was probably uncomfortable with having complete strangers, himself included, in her grandparents home. This house was like a second home to her like the woods are. After making sure everyone understood the rules, she slipped back outside to the car and drove it around back, concealing it in the stone stable that had been converted into a garage. Knowing that the car was out of sight and the falling snow was quickly covering their tracks did little to calm her uneasiness. Eventually they were going to be found and she had to make sure she had everything in place when the time came. Emily was still formulating plans when she went inside and found everyone gathered in the kitchen watching Gideon cook.

"Uncle Jase is in his element," Noah said softly as Gideon flittered about the kitchen with a towel draped over one shoulder with music playing in the background, assembling a meal fit from the refrigerator that Robert thoughtfully had made sure it was well stocked.

"I can see that," she observed.

They all sat down to the home cooked meal like a regular group of friends playing catch up. Ignoring the elephant in the room in their situation, they talked about happier things. Gideon and Emily asked about Noah's trip, at least, everything before things went haywire. Gideon ignored everything Amie related. He didn't want to hear it. She was the trouble in his nephew's life and he felt he'd be better off without her. Until she came into the picture, it seemed like Noah was really having a good time. He met a lot of new people, experienced things other people only dreamed about, and made some new friends. He was proud of his nephew for venturing out.

Eventually the conversation moved to the living room. Sitting before the roaring fire in the large fireplace, Emily and Noah shared stories about the places they both visited, comparing the two to see how things changed. The exchanges gave Gideon new insights about Emily, especially her childhood. It all made for a nice time, but the hectic events of the day caught up to them and they all agreed to call it a night.

As everyone was heading off to bed, Emily couldn't resist tossing out a friendly poke at her ex-boss. "Gideon, I better not catch you pinching any of the linens."

"I don't know what you mean," he grumped.

"I'll bet you 100 Euros that you have in your bag the bathrobe from the hotel suite."

Gideon didn't say anything. He just huffed in annoyance and disappeared into the room he was sharing with Noah, leaving a grinning Emily standing at the head of the stairs.

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckled, wishing he had taken her up on the bet. It would've been the easiest $113.23 after conversion that she ever made.

* * *

"Well?" Alain Renaud demanded after snatching up the phone.

"We haven't found them yet, Monsieur, but I sense we are getting closer. I have men posted outside the American Embassy and at every bus and rail station and the airport. At the moment none have reported any sightings of these elusive Americans."

"They could have been inside by the time your men arrived."

"I have already thought of that. I contacted my sources on the inside and no one matching their descriptions has passed through the doors. I also have a clever young man on the payroll who has tapped into the security cameras. Nothing."

Renaud stood up and started pacing around his office, pausing every now and then to adjust a book, painting or knickknack that was slightly out of alignment. "Then where the hell are they? People don't simply vanish into thin air," he all but shouted over the line.

The man on the other end of the phone remained calm and collected. He was very aware of Renaud's volatile temper, having used it to get the politician into their pocket. He was content with letting Renaud think he was the one in charge and held all the power. And if he started to prove to be too troublesome, they would simply snuff him out. There were more politicians in Parliament who would gladly do their dirty work…with the right incentive.

"If they are hiding somewhere in the city, my men will find them."

"And if they're not?"

"My men will still find them. It will just take a few more days. You need to remain calm."

"I am calm!"

"Whatever you say, Monsieur Renaud," the man responded in a reasonable voice. "But I do believe I might know where they're heading if they have indeed fled the city."

That little tidbit calmed Renaud down enough for him to settle behind his desk before biting. "Where?"

"As you suggested, I have looked into the American woman, Emily Prentiss, and have discovered several interesting things. First of all, you were correct that she had ties to our fair country. Her family, on her mother's side, owns a small winery in the Savioe region."

Renaud pounded a fist on the desk in triumph. Got them! "Send your men immediately," he ordered.

"Let's not be hasty, Monsieur," he counseled. "At this point in time there is no evidence that the Americans have left the city. A discrete check of their credit cards doesn't show a charge for a rental car."

He was right, Renaud silently fumed. Now wasn't the time to act rashly. If the man he had sent after Amie and the bastard who had stolen her from him, had used his head and not kill the wrong man, he wouldn't have this mess on his hands that he had to clean up. All he wanted was his notebook back before it fell into the wrong hands, doubting his mistress knew what she had. Not wanting his hired help to know he was agreeing with him, Renaud changed the subject.

"What else did you learn about this woman?"

"The woman could be high profile."

"Why is that?"

"Her mother is an ambassador and she's highly regarded here."

"I sense there's more."

"She's also an FBI agent. She'll have skills and connections that can make containing the situation hard," the unidentified man cautioned.

Renaud felt his anger flaring. Why was he arguing with me? Has he suddenly forgotten whom was he talking to? "Hard or not, it needs to be done."

"Certainly there is another way. Killing her or any of them is not the right option. The old guy was an agent too. This will be nothing but trouble."

He had had enough and leaned forward in his chair, finger jabbing the blotter with every point he made. "Now listen closely to me. I want them found. When they have told you were Amie and the boy is, you will eliminate all three. I don't care how you do it as long as it looks like it was an accident. Amie I will take care of personally."

"As you wish."

* * *

Around three in the morning Gideon silently descended the stairs to the first floor in search of Emily. He had a good idea where she was so he wasn't surprised to find her sitting in the semi-dark, staring out the window that overlooked the driveway. The only source of light was the faint glowing of they dying embers in the fireplace. He walked over and tossed a few logs in. They caught quickly and soon the yellow and orange dancing flames, allowing him to see the gun clutched in her hand, lighted the room.

"Pren…Emily, you need to get some sleep."

"I'm fine," was all she said, eyes never leaving the snow swirling outside the window.

"No one is going to sneak up on us in the middle of a snow storm."

"They could. It makes the perfect cover." Her mind finally registered the fact that he had just called her Emily again and a feeling of dread settles over her, knowing what was to come. The discussion she was hoping to avoid for eternity was about to rear its ugly head.

He nodded thoughtfully and went to sit on the far end of the couch. "Back at the forger's apartment you promised to answer all my questions to the best of your ability when we reached our final destination and I promised to hold you to it. Well, here we are and now seems like a good time to talk. Noah and Amie are asleep so they won't overhear anything." He gestured to the other end of the couch. "Please sit with me."

Emily finally turned to him and sighed, not wanting to have this conversation, but knew she owed it to him. She got up from her place before the window and went to sit next Gideon on the couch, perching on its edge.

"Relax. It's just the two of us," he cajoled, nodding to her hand.

She looked down to see the white knuckled grip she had on the Glock. Emily eased up and set it on the coffee table before sitting back against the cushions, gazing into the fire.

"First of all you need to know that I can't go into great detail because most of it is classified and you don't have the clearance."

"Understood." He was clearly intrigued.

Emily sighed again and absently brushed a lock of hair off her face. "The ten years I spent in the Midwest was a backstop. I had only been with the Bureau for about a year before joining the BAU. Before that I was with the CIA. They recruited me right after I had graduated from Georgetown with my Masters."

Gideon's eyes narrowed. That both surprised him and not at all. Even from the first time he met her, there was something about her, nothing wrong, just something. She was so composed and so good at controlling her emotions and expressions. So CIA, yeah, it made sense. She was practically built for that. The way she grew up was like she was groomed for that. Still, it was a little surprising.

"I was considered to be one of their best and brightest," she said with distain. She hadn't, and still didn't, take the job to make a name for herself and reap the rewards of her success. She just wanted to protect her country and the people who resided within its boundaries. "I was eventually loaned to Interpol as part of a joint task force where I worked mostly undercover."

"That had to be hard for you. Going undercover requires you to give up so much of yourself to become someone else for a certain amount of time. You end up taking big risks both personally and professionally, walking that fine line of remaining distance or becoming too involved. Not everyone can do it."

Guilty as charged for becoming too involved. Once that line was crossed there was no going back. Emily shook her head and hugged her body, suddenly cold. "No they can't. I was on the verge of burning out when the task force was disbanded."

"So you left one stressful job for another," he lightly joked, hoping it would put her slightly more at ease. She looked so tightly wound and could snap at any minute.

She let out a rueful chuckle. "At least this job is clean. I know who the bad guys are and I don't have to screw anyone over to make a case."

"That is true, but please continue. I sense there is more to this that you're not telling me."

Emily wasn't sure if she liked this sympathetic version of Gideon and it was throwing her off. She was more used to his rude and arrogant side. "Almost a year ago, a man we had put into prison escaped and came after us, namely me because I was the one who had personal contact with him."

"You were his stressor," Gideon surmised.

"Yeah," Emily said, her voice dropping a little, a sure sign her was right and there was more to be told.

"Did you get him?"

She nodded. "He's dead."

But maybe that wasn't enough to keep him out of her life. "Is he who keeps you up at night?" She looks at him questioningly. "The nightmares."

"Oh…" she wasn't expecting that. "It took a long time to catch him…a long time."

"How long is a long time?"

"Five months. He almost killed me." Technically he did when she coded in the ambulance, but Gideon didn't need to know that. If she hasn't told the team about it, why should she tell him? "I spent two months in the hospital and during that time Hotch faked my death to protect me." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was still angry at Hotch for taking her life away without consulting her. "When I was strong enough to travel, I was relocated here."

It clicked for him. Her reluctance to come in the beginning, the uneasiness radiating of her the moment their plane had landed and her hyper vigilance all made sense. Her much more recent history with Paris was unfolding. Not wanting to press the emotional part of it, he asked, "So the team was looking for him, found him and he died so you could finally return home?"

"Not quite. While they were looking for him, he was looking for his son. Thinking the team knew where he was; he kidnapped Jack to force their hand. I came back to rescue him. I got Jack back safely and in the struggle for control of the gun, it went off and his kidnapper died."

"You killed him?"

"Yes."

Good for her, he thought and kept it to himself, figuring that wasn't something she would want to hear, especially from him. "I can't even begin to imagine what you went through and where an 'I'm sorry' seems inadequate."

"It was five months of hell."

They sat in companionable silence gazing at the flames dancing over the surface of the logs in the fireplace. Eventually Gideon got to his feet. "Thank you for telling me. I know you didn't want to, but I truly appreciated it." And he did. He had gotten to see a whole other side of Emily, a side that made her stronger.

Emily shrugged. "I promised I would."

"No matter. Again…thank you." He bent down and picked her Glock off the coffee table. "Now get some sleep, Emily. I'll take the next shift."

She immediately protested. "Jason, you don't have to. I'm not tired."

"You are and I want to. Get some sleep."

She could see from the stubborn set of his jaw he wasn't going to change her mind and she didn't feel in the mood to keep arguing. She sighed and surrendered. "Alright I'll do it, but I'll just stay here in case something happens."

"It doesn't bother me where you sleep as long as you sleep."

Emily nodded, fluffed the sole pillow on the couch and stretched out. She didn't think she would be able to fall asleep any time soon after everything that had occurred today. But she was more tired than she thought and was out for the count within minutes. Gideon watched Emily sleep for a while before going to rustle up a blanket. After draping it over her slumbering body, Gideon settled on the chair by the window and assumed his watch.

* * *

The morning dawned clear and bright, the winter sun reflecting off the snow covered vineyards. It was a beautiful sight. The brown of the dormant grape vines contrasting nicely with the vivid blue sky and the eye blinding white of the snow. The looming mountains of the Alps added to the grandeur of the region.

 _I can see why Emily's ancestors chose to settle here and start making wine_ , Gideon thought as he gazed in awe out the window during a pause in breakfast preparation. _It was just breathtaking._

Since Emily had been up for most of the night, Gideon let her sleep for an extra hour before rousing her and sending the half asleep woman off to take a shower. When she returned wide-awake and ready to face another stressful day, he had breakfast all laid out. Though he didn't say anything to her, he loved this kitchen. Its layout was just the way he would have designed it in his dream kitchen. Now they were all sitting around the table tucking into the tomato and basil omelettes with proscuitto that he had whipped up from what he had found in the fridge.

"Is this where we're going to hang out until you know it's safe for us to go home?" Noah asked after practically inhaling his omelette.

"I really like it here," Amie chimed in.

My god, this man can cook, Emily thought before shaking her head and saying, "No. We're still too exposed here. There are too many ways the men after us can come at us and I don't want to endanger any of the people working here. This was only a temporary stop because of the heavy snow yesterday."

"So where are we going?" Gideon asked even though he had a good idea what she was going to say.

Emily's eyes drifted to the window and the Alps beyond. "Up."


	16. Chapter 16

"So where are we going?" Gideon asked.

Emily's eyes drifted to the window and the Alps beyond. "Up."

Three pairs of eyes followed her gaze. "We're going to cross the Alps like the Von Trapps did in the Sound of Music?" Amie asked in delight.

Emily transferred her gaze to the girl, wondering exactly how old she was. She originally ballparked Amie's age between 18 to 24, but given the air of naivety she was displaying, she bumped her estimate closer to 18. That would explain how she had fallen for the charms of a man like Alain Renaud and not taking into consideration the consequences from stealing and leaving a man of his power. She just wrongly assumed from her previous teenage boyfriends that you just break up and move on to the next. The French girl still had a lot of growing up to do.

"No. They actually went to the station and caught a train to Italy. From there to London before emigrating to the States and eventually settling in Vermont."

"They didn't cross the Alps into Switzerland?"

"That would have been hard since Salzburg is near Germany's border."

"But the movie…"

"I wouldn't take everything you see on film and tv as a fact," Emily pointed out.

"Oh," Amie said slowly, frowning a little bit and then brightened. "At least taking the train wasn't as hard on the children as climbing a mountain would be."

Emily was enjoying herself, feeling a little bit like Reid in the fact-spouting category as she continued to burst the girl's preconceptions of the movie. "Hate to tell you this." No she didn't. "But the Captain and Maria had been married for ten years with two children and a third on the way when they fled Austria. Six out of the original seven children were in their twenties when it happened."

"Why would they change everything?"

She refrained from mentioning that all the kid's names had been changed and they had switched the positions of the two oldest children. "Creative license," she said with a shrug and downed the rest of her orange juice.

As entertaining as the side conversation has been, Gideon decided to get it back onto the original subject. "Are we heading to your grandfather's cabin?"

If she was surprised that he remembered her mentioning it years ago, Emily didn't let it show. "Yes. It's isolated and there is only one way to reach it so we'll be able to see anyone approaching before they see us."

"You really think they'll follow us here?" Noah asked worriedly.

Emily shrugged again. "This is the mob we're dealing with so anything is possible. I'm hoping to buy us a couple of days. Eventually they're going to look deeper into your uncle and me and they'll discover this winery. Hopefully by the time they show up, we'll be long gone."

Gideon started gathering up the dirty dishes. "So what's the plan?"

"I need to make a phone call. I had planned to stop here only long enough to pick up everything, but the snowstorm changed all that."

He nodded in agreement. "We'll clean up in here and you go do what you need to do."

* * *

Emily retreated to the dining room to conduct her business and paused at the window. Looking out at the clear morning skies, she was happy the weather seemed to have changed. The storm had passed, at least the worst of it had or so she hoped. Snow blanketed everything and if more was to come, she didn't know where it would go. Sighing, she looked at the sky one more time before moving her gaze to her watch. It was early there in France. It would be the middle of the night back in the States; not the perfect time to call, but something she had to do.

She pulled out the burner phone she had with her, not wanting to turn on her actual phone in fear of being traced. Call it hypervigilance, but she wasn't going to take the risk. With the burner in hand, she typed in a number and hoped there would be an answer.

 _"Hello?"_ a sleepy voice said.

"Mom," Emily greeted. She could just imagine her mother in that moment, moving the cell phone from her ear to look at the caller ID again.

 _"Emily? Where are you calling me from?"_

"I'm at the vineyard."

 _"You are?"_

"Yes. Mom, I don't have long to talk I need your help."

Elizabeth's breath stilled and was now wide-awake. _"What's going on, Emily? Are you in trouble? What do you need?"_

Emily gave her mother the bare minimum of the situation. She didn't want to pull her mother into the fray any more than she had to. If it weren't for Elizabeth's unique ability to help, she wouldn't have even called.

 _"What can I do?"_

"We need a way out. Can you arrange for a private plane or helicopter, anything to get us out here?"

Elizabeth told her daughter to hang on and used a separate house phone to make a call. She informed her daughter that travel was restricted in that area of France. Even though the snow had stopped, there were high winds and another approaching storm that made air travel unsafe. "I can get someone out there as soon as humanly possible, Emily, but it won't be as soon as anyone of us would like."

"I'll take it," Emily said.

She had no choice. So she made arrangements with her mother. The four of them would have to hide out a little longer. If they weren't tracked, they could stay right there on the property until the weather had settled and then off they'd go, but the more logical side of her mind said it wouldn't be that easy. People were out to get them and, if they were any good at their jobs, probably already on their way. She would have to stick with plan B.

"Thank you so much, Mom."

 _"Be safe, Emily."_

"I'll do my best."

With a heavy breath, Emily hung up and returned to he spot at the window, this time, looking toward the garage. In there was their plan B. They would see what the rest of the day brought them. Air travel was bad, and she couldn't imagine land was any better with the snow drifts everywhere, so they might have some time. Still, she wasn't hopeful and wanted to be prepared. So, that was how she spent the rest of the morning, gathering all they would need for the trip up the mountain. The snowmobiles in the garage were already gassed, something she noticed while tucking the car out of sight the previous night. There was snow gear and food. They'd physically have what they needed. That didn't guarantee safety, but it was better than the alternative.

* * *

Dave and Hotch were sitting in the latters office shooting the breeze and discussing several cases when Penelope burst in unannounced yelling, "Something's happening. My Emily might be in trouble."

Both men stared at her and when she opened her mouth, Hotch held up a calming hand hoping to cut her off at the pass. "Slow down, Garcia, and tell us what has you in such a panic."

The blonde analyst took a deep breath, found her happy place and slowly released it, feeling calmer and more centered. "As you know I tend to worry when all my chicks aren't safe and sound in the nest."

"That's putting it mildly," Dave quipped, earning a dirty look from him.

"Anyhow," she continued, "My babies showed me some hinky things."

"What does hinky mean here, Garcia?"

"Emily's been hacked!"

"Hacked?"

"Yes. Her credit card information was hacked. You know, like I check histories when we look at victims' lives."

Hotch didn't want to ask the next question, but knew it had to be done. On its own, his hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Why are you monitoring Prentiss' credit card activity? Please tell me you aren't trying to figure out what kind of gift she might have picked up for you."

Penelope's cheeks reddened. "Maybe…" she hedged. "But monitoring her accounts and her cell phone is the only way I can track her and make sure she's safe. I would also do this with her GPS, but it's obvious that she didn't take her car to Paris since you can't drive it over the ocean."

"Do you do this to everyone?" Dave asked, not comfortable with the prospect of Big Sister peeking over his shoulder and watching his every move."

"Not when you're on a case because I know where you all are and what you're doing."

Somehow that didn't make him feel any better. At the same times Hotch made a mental note to have a little chat with her about respecting people's privacy.

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"No. That's the problem. I can't get a hold of her. I can't find her on the cyber grid. She's AWOL." Her voice cracking and making it sound like she was about to lose it.

"Okay. Before everyone starts to panic, let's think this through," Dave said reasonably. "When was the last time you actually talked with Emily?"

"Yesterday morning," she answered immediately. "I called to tell her the burner phone had been turned back on. She promised to call me back and let me know how it went, but she never did."

"Is her phone on?"

"No."

"Can you turn it on remotely?"

Penelope's eyes widened in a 'aha' moment and held up her index finger. "Seusami," she said and bolted from the room.

Dave shrugged and turned his attention to Hotch. "When did you last talk to Emily?"

"Two nights ago," he answered, keeping it intentionally vague. What they had discussed that night was personal. "You?"

"I haven't spoken to her since the day she left for Paris. I refrained from calling because she would assume I'm acting like an overprotective father and checking up on her."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Acting like an overprotective father?"

Dave gave it a little thought before answering with a smile. "Sometimes. I do admit it is a rather nice feeling."

"It is and it looks good on you," Hotch agreed, returning the smile with one of his own.

Penelope flew back in as quickly as she departed with her laptop in tow. She flopped down in an empty chair, cleared a corner of Hotch's desk much to his annoyance for the computer and got down to work, fingers flying over the keys. After a few minutes of frantic typing, she slumped back in her seat, a defeated sigh escaping her lips.

"It didn't work?" Hotch commiserated.

"Nope," she said with a shake of the head. "Em must be somewhere cell phones don't work or her phone has been smashed into a gazillion pieces and she's…"

"Take a deep breath, Garcia. You're overreacting to something that is probably nothing."

"Right, right. Of course."

Dave stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "You said someone hacked into Emily's account?" Penelope nodded. "Did you happen to check Gideon's accounts on the off chance they did the same to his?"

She sat up straighter in her chair, the possibility of doing another search lighting up her eyes. "No, I didn't," she said excitedly, attacking the laptop with renewed enthusiasm.

Off to the side Dave gave Hotch a knowing nod and the two men settled back to await the result of her latest search. Both were harboring thoughts that the technical analyst was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, as she was wont to do when it involved someone from the team. With Penelope in her element it didn't take long to get their answer and it was one they weren't expecting.

"They did," she announced. "Both hacks have the same signature so they were done by the same guy."

The two agents exchanged worried looks. What had been a simple over reaction in their books has just turned into something more sinister feeling.

"That's too much of a coincidence for my liking," Dave said at last.

"Agreed. Anything similar on either account?"

Penelope pulled up Emily's statement and compared it to Gideon's. "Nope…wait. They checked out of their hotel yesterday afternoon."

"Then they could already be on their way home."

"I would think Emily would've called you to let you know she's on her way back," Dave pointed out.

"Checking the airline they flew to Paris on," Penelope mumbled more to herself, eyes scanning the information scrolling down the screen. "They flew on an open ended ticket. They're more expensive, but it makes sense since they didn't know how long they would be." The keys clicked loudly. "In the past twenty-four hours they didn't check in for any flights back to the States."

"Then where are they?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. You guys are the profilers, I'm not."

"I don't like this," Hotch declared, reaching for his phone. "We need to know more about the case."

Penelope frowned. "Don't you need like…jurisdiction to ask those kind of questions? Do you have that?"

"I don't, but I know someone who can get what we need."

Dave smirked. "Easter?"

"Easter."

* * *

When Clyde answered the phone and realized who it was, he was automatically suspicious. It wasn't often the two had any form of communication, and if they did, it involved Emily and it wasn't usually just a friendly chat. A little gruffly, Clyde asked Hotch what was going on and if Emily was all right. In return, Hotch told him that Emily was in France. She was helping out an old colleague and the task proved a little hard than originally anticipated. That, in itself, wasn't a problem, but now no one could seem to reach her and there was some suspicious activity on both her and Gideon's credit cards. Naturally, Clyde was concerned now as well. He asked a few questions, trying to gather as much information as possible. Finally, knowing he was now privy to all Hotch knew, he said, "I'll look into it and ring you once I know more."

"Thank you," Hotch replied, hoping the call would come an they'd learn they were just overreacting.

A nerve-wracking hour passed before the phone rang. A quick glance at the caller ID told Hotch who it was and he put it on speakerphone. "Easter."

Everyone in the room knew there was no love lost between the two alpha males. Hotch thought the Brit was an arrogant prick and if he had been more forthcoming about the Doyle case, they might have been able to get to Emily before Doyle stabbed her with the broken table leg and ripping her out of their lives for five painful months.

 _"Hotchner,"_ Clyde replied with equal disdain. _"I've done some digging and it seems our Emily has gotten herself in a bit of a sticky wicket there."_

"Sticky wicket?" Penelope whispered to Reid who, along with JJ and Derek, had joined the rest in Hotch's office after hearing the news.

"Spot of trouble," he translated.

"What kind of trouble?" Morgan was quick to ask.

 _"The kind Emily always seems to find herself in,"_ Clyde started. _"A source informed me that Emily interacted with a few policemen on their watch list."_

"What watch list?" Hotch asked, wondering just how bad this was.

 _"What is it you call it, a dirty cop? The officer was being watched in connection to a secret criminal network involving many public figures."_

"You think he's on someone's payroll?"

 _"Yes. That is the theory. He was being monitored to see who he interacted with outside of the job. After the death and Emily's arrival, he became a bit more on edge, specifically in the last couple of days."_

"And Emily, how does she fit in?"

 _"The death she was looking into was in the cop's district and is believed to be connected to one of the major players in the network. I wasn't able to get all the specifics as this is an ongoing investigation I'm not a part of."_

"How bad is this for Emily?" Penelope asked.

 _"We don't know, but with your help, one of the analysts here was able to match the code used to hack into the card histories to the same hacker that is believed to work for the syndicate based on the signature. That hacker remains unknown, but it's enough to say that Emily and your friend have been pulled into something. It's safe to assume Emily has found herself in quite the situation. The ties in this range from the mob, to police, to politicians."_

Everyone in the office exchanged worried looks. What had started off as a simple body identification has turned into a major corruption and their friend seems to have landed right in the middle of it.

"If Emily figured out what was going on, what would she do?" JJ asked.

 _"She would hunker down somewhere she thought was safe and call for an extraction,"_ Clyde answered immediately. _"And it is obvious she didn't call me. So bloody stubborn she is."_

"If she didn't call you or Hotch," Dave spoke up. "Who would she call for help?"

* * *

Mother Nature made the decision for them. When the weather alert radio announced another storm approaching, Emily knew it was time to go. If they waited too long, the falling snow would make the ascent much more difficult though it would cover their tracks and make it appear they were never there in the first place. She rounded everyone up, got them bundled up against the cold and led them out to the garage where their rides waited. Emily started to show Gideon how the snowmobile worked when he gruffly told her he has driven one before and she promptly shut up.

Ideally she would have liked the weight more evenly distributed between the two snowmobiles by riding as mixed couples, but Emily was afraid Gideon would "accidentally" lose Amie somewhere on the way up. So the girl was riding with her while Noah rode with his Uncle. With Amie's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, so tight she was threatening to cut off Emily's air supply, she gassed the machine and took off, starting the long and potentially dangerous trek to the cabin.

The last storm made the ride a bit crazy. The fluffy top layer of snow was flying in the stirring winds, whipping at them as they drove. Fallen branches were scattered on the trails making it more like an obstacle course. It was messy, their clothes were slick with melted snow, and their noses all frozen, but they were making headway.

There was a lot of land to cover. The cabin was pretty isolated and Emily wanted to make it before it got too dark, so she urged Gideon on. The incoming inclement weather seemed to be following them, ready to throw more of the white powder onto them at any moment. So, she sped on and Gideon followed until, at last they arrived.


	17. Chapter 17

"This is it?" Amie sniffed with obvious distain as she gazed around the log cabin made from the local trees.

Emily gritted her teeth as she fed firewood into the wood burner that would heat the cabin and cook their food. She didn't like the girl insulting the cabin her grandfather lovingly built by hand. He put his heart and soul into it. She loved the rough logs of the exterior, the smooth pine floor and walls, the cathedral ceiling with its pine beams, the stone fireplace and the small loft above the bedrooms where she slept as a child.

"What were you expecting? The Le Meurice or a chateau?" As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice. Maybe she should have dumped her off on the way up.

"Well, oui."

"I like it," Noah added his two cents, coming through the door with his arms full of supplies. "It kind of reminds me of your place, Uncle Jase."

"It does," Gideon agreed with an approving nod as he set his load on the countertop. He ran a hand over it, admiring the workmanship. "Did your grandfather build it?"

Once Emily got the fire going, she straightened, knees creaking in protest, and held her hands over the woodstove to warm them. "Yes. He liked working with his hands."

"I can see that. His eye for detail was exquisite."

Emily smiled at the compliment. It felt good to hear it from someone who recognized good work when he saw it. Grandpa may have been all thumbs when it came to growing grapes and making wine, but give him a couple pieces of wood and some tools, he would create wonders. "He did."

"Ou sont les toilettes?" Amie asked.

"Out back."

The girl's eyes widened with shock. "Out back?" she squeaked. The only thing she saw out back was two small buildings and a lot of trees and snow.

Emily turned to her, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is a cabin in the Alps. There isn't any electricity or running water so there's no way to flush a toilet. We just do it the old fashioned way."

"I'll show her," Noah volunteered. "I went to camp during the summers so I'm used to roughing it."

"You're going to need this," Emily added. She dug through the supplies, found what she was looking for and tossed the roll of toilet paper in their direction.

"Outhouse?" Gideon chuckled after Noah led the French girl off to her first experience with outdoor plumbing…in the winter.

"Actually it's a shed. One side holds the toilet and the other has a bathtub and a small woodstove for heating water if you wanted to bathe in private. When Grandpa was alone, he just had his bath here." Emily went over to what looked like an ordinary cabinet to Gideon, opened it to reveal a folding bathtub.

"Ingenious." He let out a low of appreciation.

"He modeled it after the old Mosely folding tubs," she explained as she showed him how it worked. "It's a real space saver."

"It is," he agreed.

He went to help her with the supplies. Since he didn't know where everything went, Gideon just stuck to unloading the bags. As he handed them to her, he wondered if he could bet get Emily to talk a bit more about her family. He was enjoying learning more about this normally very private person. With each tidbit she revealed, another dimension was added to the Emily Prentiss he knew. Plus it might get her to relax a little. The events of the past two days have her on edge. Hell, he was on edge and could stand some distraction.

"I take it both your grandparents are French?"

The fond smile returned. "Only my grand-mere, Eleonore Brousseau. My grandfather, Bruce Cabot, was a red blooded American." Emily stopped what she was doing to gaze off into the distance. "They met during the war and it was love at first sight. He would have married her right then and there."

"But he didn't because he didn't want to make her a widow if he was killed in action?"

"Yeah. He waited until he was discharged from the army before rushing back here to propose. She accepted, they got married and moved to Baltimore where they had Mom and Uncle Ned."

Ah! She has an uncle. "Uncle Ned?"

A sad look flirted across her face. "I never knew him. I've only seen photos of him. He died in Vietnam."

"I'm sorry."

Emily shrugged, accepting his condolences graciously. "It was a long time ago though I heard he was quite the character." She chuckled. "Anyways they would spend their summers here in France and only moved back permanently when Grand-mere inherited the vineyard from her brother Jean Luc. By then Mom was away at college. Grand-mere focused on making wine and Grandpa focused on clearing the land and building this cabin."

"And your mother continued the tradition? I remember you saying once you spent a lot of time here as a child."

"She did. We came almost every summer and when she couldn't make it, she sent me. Sometimes I think she did it just to get me out of her hair. Some of my best childhood memories are of the winery and this cabin." She let out a soft sigh and returned to her shelving.

Gideon wondered about the memories. What were they and what about them made them so special? Being a profiler…well…ex-profiler, he gathered that she didn't have it the easiest growing up. Sure, she had the money, but her mother had a high profile job that required a lot of travel. That had to be hard on her, even if it did shape the Emily she was then. So, did France become a refuge, the solitary cabin and family run business her sanctuary? He wanted to probe deeper, but he was afraid she would shut down if he did.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old were you when your grandparents died?" he gently asked, wondering if she would answer a rather personal question.

Surprisingly she did. "Grand-mere died suddenly when I was eight. It took everyone by surprise, especially Grandpa. He loved her so much. He turned over the day to day running of the winery to Sebastien's father and retired up here."

"Ah, that's the ten year stretch you mentioned?"

Emily was surprised Gideon had remembered any of that conversation. It happened so long ago and was smack in the middle of the case they were discussing. "Yes. I had just started college when he passed."

"Did you get to spend any time with him before it happened?"

"I spent the whole summer with him. It was great. Then a couple months later Mom called me at Yale to let me know he had quietly passed away in his sleep."

She remembered how she had counted down the days to graduation, not to celebrate leaving high school behind, but when she could officially escape the confines of the house she shared with her mother and their toxic relationship. She had it all planned out. She would spend the summer in France with her grandfather and then in the fall go directly to her dorm at Yale without ever stopping at home. Before leaving for France, she took a few days to pack everything she needed for college and placed them in a storage unit so when she came to pick it up, she wouldn't run into her mother. If Elizabeth was upset that she didn't get to see her only child off to college, she sure didn't let it show.

Gideon didn't repeat his condolences, instead choosing to ask, "Do you still come here regularly?"

Emily looked around the cabin with sad eyes. "Not in a long time. I tried for a couple of summers after her died, but it wasn't the same without him."

"You loved him and this place hold a special meaning to you. That's why you're uncomfortable with us being here. We're invading your privacy."

Everything he said was true. Her grandfather and Matthew were the only two people who made her feel worthy of love and friendship. It remained that way for a long time until she joined the BAU and found a family.

"Yes," Emily didn't bother to deny it. "But it was my decision to bring you guys up here. It's not like you dropped in on me unannounced. I thought, and still do, this was the safest place to hide until the weather clears and the helicopter my Mom chartered comes and picks us up."

He didn't know what else to say to that except for, "Thank you for everything, Emily. You've gone far beyond the call of duty to help us."

"It's what families do," she said with a genuine smile as she thought that it took her a long time to realize that. "You may drive me to the point of distraction and have been gone for a long time, but you're still a part of the BAU family."

Gideon was touched by her words and being someone who rarely expressed those sentiments aloud, he changed the subject and went over to examine the stove. "I should make us something to eat. I'm starved and I bet you are too. Though I will admit this is going to be a unique experience for me. I've never cooked with a wood burning stove before."

Emily gave him the evil eye. "If you burn this cabin down, I'll be so pissed with you."

* * *

It didn't take a room full of geniuses to figure out that Emily had called her mother for help. If this event had happened a few years ago, the thought would have been quickly rejected. At that time mother and daughter were barely on speaking terms. Dave distinctly remembered Emily didn't want to take a vacation in Italy simply based on the fact that Elizabeth had extended her trip there. But after her 'death', the team knew they were taking careful steps in repairing their relationship. They were now talking on the phone and occasionally going out for lunch or dinner.

After hanging up on the arrogant Brit, Hotch tried to contact the Ambassador via the two numbers he had, but to no avail, forcing him to call her assistant. The man was polite and efficient as he informed Hotch that the Ambassador was currently unavailable. He will pass the message along and she'll return his call shortly. Hotch had no choice since he wasn't privy to her personal number.

"Why didn't Emily simply call Easter in the first place?" Penelope asked while they waited for the return call. "He's Interpol. He could charge in with guns blazing."

"She probably associates Easter with a lot of bad memories of Doyle and that whole situation leading her to have doubts about him and their friendship," JJ supplied.

"Also Interpol may be the international police, but it doesn't mean they can run roughshod over a nation's laws. Like us, they need to be invited in by the host country," Dave added. "It's complicated and Emily knows that."

"It doesn't seem right," she bemoaned.

"Believe me, Baby Girl, if any of us had any jurisdiction we would be over there in no time flat."

Even though he was having issues with Emily, Reid believed she made the right decision and said so, "I think Emily made the right choice in calling her mother. The Ambassador would have connections in France that she call on to get Emily all the help she needs."

"If," JJ stressed. "We don't know for certain if Em called her mom. If she's making any calls it's on a burner and those we can't trace."

The phone on Hotch's desk rang, startling everyone out of their speculating. He put it on speakerphone. "Agent Hotchner."

"Agent Hotchner, it's Ambassador Prentiss. My assistant said you called, but didn't say what it was about."

"I was wondering when the last time you talked with Emily was."

The rest of the team pressed closer to the desk to better hear her answer. "This morning. She called from our winery."

"A winery?" Penelope whispered, eyes wide as saucers. "Em owns a winery? Why didn't she tell us? Think of all the free wine we could have been getting over the years from Chateau Prentiss." Everyone shushed her.

"Do you mind me asking what she discussed with you?"

"Agent Hotchner, what's going on?"

"I promise to answer your question, Ambassador, but please answer mine first."

Not knowing the whole story and not wanting to break Emily's confidence, Elizabeth offered only a little information. "Emily said she needed a way out of France. She and a couple of others were stuck and in a jam. Snow prevented much travel."

Everyone caught the couple of others reference. That meant she and Gideon must have found his missing nephew.

"And did you find a way out for her?" Please tell me that you did, he thought.

"I arranged a flight out for them, but we're waiting on the weather to clear. What's going on?" Elizabeth repeated. "Is Emily in some kind of danger?"

Ignoring the questions, he asked, "Did she get on the plane?"

She answered no, and then asked again what was going on. This time Hotch didn't deflect her questions and filled her in on everything they learned from Penelope and Clyde Easter. When he was done, silence hung heavily over the line, Elizabeth was duly panicked, worried about her daughter's safety. Hotch tried to quell her fears, but he had his worries too.

"She'll be okay. Gideon is with her and we don't know what their current situation is. They're probably just hiding out."

Though, he had to wonder why the winery. That would never be Emily's final destination. It was too public. Anyone could connect he to a family business especially a group with as much power as the one chasing them. So what were they missing?

* * *

Alain Renaud paced his office like a caged lion. His patience was wearing thin and it was souring his mood. His family and employees knew to give him a wide berth when he was like this. Too many had been the target of his ire, had been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue. Just thinking of his employees made his temperature spike. When he gave an order, he expected it to be followed and completed promptly. One of the things he loathed was being kept waiting and that was exactly what the man he charged with finding that idiot mistress of his and getting rid of all the loose ends, was making him do. Alain Renaud didn't wait for people; they waited for him.

He was seriously thinking about firing him and hiring someone more efficient who would take care of the two problems he now had when the phone in his hand rang. "What?" he snapped.

 _"They're not here,"_ his hired hand said.

"What?!" He repeated louder, more forcefully. "Not here?"

 _"The woman…the Americans. We have determined they're not in the city."_

"Then where the hell are they? How did they get away?!"

 _"I don't know as of yet. They're probably at the woman's winery."_

"Probably? That doesn't sound very sure. Are you sure?"

 _"It's the most likely scenario..."_

"That's not what I asked!" Renaud interrupted.

 _"They're there,"_ he said, unfazed by his employer ranting.

"Then why aren't you?"

 _"Renaud..."_

"I don't want to hear it. You go…you take however many men you can, one, two, a whole army... I don't care. Just go! Go and get this done. Kill them. Do the job I hired you for or..."

 _"Or what? It's a snowstorm out there. What do you suppose I do, fly there?"_ he couldn't help being sarcastic.

"If necessary."

 _"We'll get there."_

"You do it now. Do it now and take care of this mess or I will call in another favor to have your family killed. And if that doesn't motivate you, then I'll find some other way. Get this done," he yelled and quickly hung up, still fuming. _Incompetent assholes. It was so hard to find good help.  
_  
Meanwhile, the man on the other end of the call wasn't raddled, but he knew Renaud was serious. He'd do just about anything to get what he wanted. Having people killed, clearly, wasn't out of his purview. He knew his family was safe, but he didn't want to start a war right now, not one that would end up so publicly, so he grabbed a couple of men, calling them over and told them to get the car ready and grab the gear. They were heading to the winery with one mission: to end this.


	18. Chapter 18

Emily sat at the kitchen table cleaning her Glock and the two rifles her grandfather had used for hunting. She paid special attention to the rifles since they hadn't been used in a long time and she didn't want them to explode in her or Gideon's face if they were forced to use them. Even though the storm was still raging outside, the front and back doors were cracked open to provide some ventilation since the cleaning solvent and gun oil fumes were rather noxious. Given the choice of being slightly cold or passing out, she chose the first since it was easier to bundle up and strip off layers as she got warmer. Passing out just plain hurt since the odds were high of hitting your head on something as you went down for the count.

"Insert Dr. Reid's statistic about injuries sustained from passing out at any given time," she intoned with a fond and bemused smile as she inserted the cleaning rod into the barrel of the rifle she had disassembled.

Behind her, Emily could hear the raised voices from the bedroom she assigned to Gideon and Noah. The walls were thick so she couldn't make out what was being said, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the fight was about. It was the same argument they had the night before at the winery and the subject of the dispute was sound asleep without a care or worry dancing about in her head in the second bedroom. Amie appeared to be clueless about the strife she was causing between uncle and nephew and that was one of the reasons Emily chose to sleep on the couch instead of in the second bed.

She really hoped Gideon would be able to talk some sense into Noah and get him to dump Amie after all of this was over. The French girl was nothing but trouble and Emily didn't have much respect for women who voluntarily became involved with a married man regardless if he was happily married or not. Only a small percentage did it out of love or what they thought was love. _Insert another Dr. Reid statistic here_ , she mused. The majority seemed to be after the money, power or social status, especially if the guy was loaded, the affair might bring. Over her lifetime she witnessed many a marriage that had been torn asunder by the infidelity of the husband or wife and sometimes both. But she didn't think yelling was the right way to go about it. If Noah was anything like his uncle, or for that matter, like she had been at the age, he was going to stubbornly dig in his heels and refuse to budge. If Emily remembered correctly, it used to drive her mother nuts when she did that. A smile came to her lips. Actually it still does.

But knowing it was really none of her business, she tuned out the fight and let her mind drift onto other things. As her hands went through the motions of cleaning the rifle, Emily revisited some of her fonder memories of the cabin.

* * *

 _"Where are we going, Grandpa?" six year old Emily asked as she skipped along at his side, one hand in his and the other clutching her stuffed Tigger to her chest._

 _Bruce Cabot smiled indulgently down at his granddaughter. She looks so much like her mother did at this age, so full of life and eager to learn about the world surrounding her. "I can't tell you yet. It's a secret."_

 _Her dark brown eyes grew as wide as saucers. "A secret?" she breathed in awe._

 _She loved secrets just as she loved her grandpa and coming up to the cabin. This was turning into one big adventure and she loved those too. Normally she had to be in bed by eight…that she didn't love, but he said tonight was a special occasion. So a little after nine thirty they were trooping up the slope behind the cabin with a flashlight lighting their way._

" _A good secret," he agreed with a wink._

 _He led her to a large clearing, spreading the blanket he had draped over one shoulder on the ground and sat down. He patted the space next to him._

 _Emily just stood there, looking around. "This is it?" she asked in utter disappointment. What was so special about a field?_

" _It hasn't happened yet." He patted the spot again. "Please sit, Half Pint."_

 _She wouldn't have anything to do with that, choosing instead to nestle in his lap. "What hasn't happened yet?" she asked as she arranged Tigger so that he was sitting in her lap and facing out._

" _The Perseid meteor shower."_

" _What's a Percy id meaty ore?" Emily's brow furrowed as she tried to wrap her tongue around the unfamiliar words._

" _Meteor," he gently corrected. "They are pieces of rock up in outer space. When it crosses the sky it appears as a streak of light."_

 _Her eyes lifted to the night sky. "Like a shooting star, Grandpa?"_

" _Exactly like one."_

" _Can I make a wish on it?"_

" _You sure can."_

 _The two fell into a companionable silence as they gazed skyward waiting for the meteor shower to start. Emily loved sitting in his lap with his arms wrapped around her. He made her feel safe and he loved feeling the warmth of her little body pressed against his chest. When Bruce saw the start of the streak of light, he quickly pointed it out to Emily. She stared up at it in amazement and when she realized what she was supposed to do, she squeezed her eyes shut and made a wish._

 _After a minute, he asked, "Did you make a wish, Emily?"_

" _Uh huh," she said with a vigorous nod. "But I can't tell you because then it won't come true."_

" _I understand."_

 _Emily twisted around in his arms so she could gaze into his face. "Did you make a wish too, Grandpa?"_

" _I sure did, but I can't tell you," he teased with a smile._

 _She giggled and turned her attention back to the night sky watching in wonder as more meteors streaked by. It was the most beautiful thing she has ever seen besides her mommy and grand-mere, of course._

" _Do you know why it's called the Pereid meteor show?" Bruce could feel her shaking her head. "It's because it seems to occur by the constellation Pereus." He pointed out the constellation and traced it several times until she saw it._

" _Neat. Why is it called Percy us?"_

 _Bruce was hoping she would ask. His granddaughter was so smart and curious. "Because he was considered the greatest Greek hero and slayer of monsters," he explained and launched into the myth of Pereus with Emily hanging on to his every word._

* * *

Emily smiled at the memory as she reassembled the rifle and set it aside. Stargazing had become their thing after that night. Every time she visited they would return to that same clearing and he would point out a new constellation and related the myth behind it. In later years they would lug a telescope up there so they could check out the nine known planets in the solar system. Back then, poor little frozen Pluto was a planet. Emily owed her love of astronomy to her grandfather.

Also to this very day Emily could remember what she had wished for that starry night. She wanted a baby elephant just like Dumbo: cute, expressive blue eyes and huge floppy ears, but no clown hat. Elephants were too dignified to wear silly clown hats. She had it all planned out. His name would be Maynard and not Dumbo because that name was…well…just plain dumb. He would stay in her room and she would feed him peanuts. Emily chuckled at the simplicity of her six-year-old thinking. It never crossed her little mind that Maynard would outgrow her bedroom and she would have to corner the peanut market to keep him fed and happy. Plus there was the problem of what went in, had to come back up. Her nose wrinkled at that. When she thought about it, Emily realized that she never did get her elephant…not even in stuffed form.

"Oh well," she mused. "You can't get everything you wish for. Otherwise I would be dating the sexiest man alive."

Emily sighed dramatically and grabbed the second rifle. As she took it apart, her mind wondered off to another memory.

* * *

 _Being in France and with her grandfather usually made twelve year old Emily so happy and though she was thrilled to be with him, she wasn't pleased with how it came about. In years past, it was always her and her mother, and sometimes her father if he wasn't involved in his latest research project, on the visits, but this time it was different. Both were too busy with their respective careers and thinking they didn't need her underfoot for the whole summer, had shipped her off to her grandfather. Emily missed and hated her parents at the same time._

 _Her moodiness didn't go unnoticed by her grandfather and he felt for her. He knew being the daughter of an ambassador, ever a junior ambassador at this point, was hard on his Half Pint. The constant moving from posting to posting meant new schools every couple of months and new friends. Being the new kid on the block made it hard to get accepted and when it did happen, it was time to move on. Bruce had even once suggested that Emily could live with him full time and was even willing to move back to the States so that Emily could have a stable home life. But Elizabeth nixed the idea, wanting her only child with her. Knowing he wouldn't win the argument, Elizabeth got her stubborn streak from her mother, he settled for summer visits with his granddaughter. There has to be a way to cheer her up and when it came to him, Bruce went in search of Emily._

 _He found her with her nose buried in a book out on the porch. She looked unhappy and not like the young girl he liked to see. She was missing her exuberance and he wanted to bring that back to her._

 _"Emily," he called to her. She dropped her book and looked over to him._

 _"Come with me."_

 _Dutifully, Emily followed her grandfather back into the cabin where he prepared a small snack. Once settled, he asked her more about her new home. He barely remembered where it was this time, but Emily didn't seem to hate it as she shared with him a few happy stories, none of which contained her parents._

 _"Are you sad to be here?"_

 _"No. I love it here."_

 _"You look sad."_

 _She shrugged. Telling him she was happy would be a lie. "I don't mean to."_

 _"It's okay to be sad. You can't help how you feel, can you?"_

 _She shook her head no._

 _He rested his crossed arms on the table. "Why are you sad? You miss your parents?"_

 _"They're always busy," Emily confessed. "They just sent me here so they don't have to be with me."_

 _His heart went out to her. "That's not true. They sent you here so I can spend time with my favorite granddaughter whom I love very much."_

 _"I love you too." But she still missed them and wanted them to be around too_

 _"Would it make you feel better to do something more fun?"_

 _"Maybe," she answered._

 _He directed her to follow him outside and took her into the woods where there was some lumber cut and sanded to look a lot like the ones people buy. "Help me with these."_

 _She tried her best to help and asked him what they were doing._

 _"We're building, Half Pint" he said with a secretive wink. "A place just for you."_

* * *

 _What they ended up building was a tree house, a mini version of the cabin, complete with a railed deck and a sturdy ladder leading up to it. Her grandfather had originally planned to surprise her with it, but she was glad he didn't. Emily may not have inherited his way with wood and tools, but she learned a lot about construction and had fun working at his side even when she nailed her thumb with the hammer. She also felt a sense of accomplishment watching something built by her hands taking shape. It took them half the summer to get it done, but it was well worth the wait. There were shelves for her stuff, a well-padded window seat for reading and a table and two chairs made from the leftover lumber._

 _But most importantly, the tree house was hers and hers alone. No one could enter without her permission and she was allowed to decorate it any way she wanted. Like her grandfather's cabin, she loved the pine paneling so she left the walls bare except for a single poster. On the shelves she kept her prized possessions: a few books and some trinkets she picked up while out walking the mountain sides with her grandfather or had gotten from her grand-mere when she was still alive. The tree house quickly became her little home away from home, one of the few constants in her young life. She knew it would be there waiting for her when she came to visit._

* * *

Emily paused in reassembling the rifle to gaze at the fire dancing in the wood stove. From the first round of decorating everything stayed the same because that was the way she like it. Well…maybe not everything. The poster changed yearly, gradually changing from animals to Bruce Springsteen. The tree house stood empty now. The second summer after her grandfather died, she took down the poster and packed everything up, knowing she wasn't ever coming back. As she told Gideon it wasn't the same without him there. But being back here, sitting in the chair she always sat in, brought back a lot of wonderful memories that made Emily think it was time to revisit her decision. Perhaps it was time to make the cabin her own since he had left it to her in his will.

She had just started on her Glock when the bedroom door flew open and Noah stormed out. He marched over to the sink, snatched up a clean drinking glass and used the hand pump to fill it with water. He took one sip and then exclaimed, "Man, it stinks in here."

"Sorry," she said with an apologetic smile. "Cleaning solvent and gun oil is rather strong smelling."

"You're not kidding. I thought a skunk died in here." He moved over to the table and gestured at one of the empty chairs. "May I?"

"Certainly."

He flopped into it and took several more sips of his water. "I guess you heard us fighting."

"Sort of hard to miss," Emily said noncommittally, keeping her eyes on her Glock.

"Uncle Jase just doesn't get it that I love Amie," he huffed. "He thinks she isn't good enough for her."

This was one conversation she didn't want to have with him, but it seems like she was. Noah must be thinking that since she wasn't related to him, she was the perfect neutral third party to vent his frustrations to. Unfortunately for him, she was extremely biased against Amie, but she would try to be what he wanted.

"What do you think?" she countered.

"I think she's great and she loves me too. He just doesn't understand that I don't care who else she was with, only that she's with me."

"He's just trying to look out for you."

"I don't need him to."

"There were a lot of times I wish I had someone to look out for me. It's not about needing them to. It just shows that they care."

"I guess."

"Parents…and uncles always want the best for you. They want you to be happy and successful in life."

"I am. I'm so happy that I'm thinking of asking Amie to be my wife."

Emily's eyes bulged and she almost dropped the gun on the table. That was the last thing she expected to come tumbling out of his mouth.

"Don't tell me not to do it too."

"I'm not. You have to make your own choices, but what's the rush?"

"I love her," he bluntly said.

"Noah, the two of you are…she…" Emily didn't know how to word what she wanted to say. "Your relationship is pretty new. I'm not telling you not to do it, but look at the situation for a moment. If you weren't on this adrenaline adventure, would you still feel the same?"

"Absolutely. I love her and want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"How long have you been seeing each other?"

"A month and it's been the best month of my life."

"Have you discussed the future with her?" she probed. "Is she the marrying type? Does she want children? Is she willing to move to the States with you?"

"Well…no," he admitted uneasily.

"If she doesn't want to move, are you willing to come to France or somewhere else in Europe?"

"No."

"Then where would you live? On separate continents?" Emily shook her head. Noah was blinded by his feelings. "You need to know the answers to some of these questions before making a life long commitment."

"I never thought of that."

"You need to. It's one of the reasons why many couples get divorced. They jumped into marriage blindly without asking the right questions and finding out that they have nothing in common."

Noah nodded his head at that. It was food for thought. He knew very well what his uncle thought of Amie and he was curious to know hers. "Emily, what do you think of her?"

That was a loaded question she ever heard one. "I don't really know her. I do think she's young and a little naïve." More like oblivious. "But I can see what you see in her." She comes off as exotic and exciting to a young man like Noah. Her looks didn't hurt either.

"Uncle Jase thinks she a problem, that she's going to get me killed, but it's not her fault."

"Noah, your uncle is concerned and I can see why. It's not completely her fault, but she did put you in this situation by making poor choices and not one thinking them through."

"It's not fair to blame her. She didn't do anything wrong."

Emily gently reminded him that she willingly took part in an affair and that there were several other disastrous decisions that nearly got them both killed. All of it could have been avoided.

"It's not her fault," Noah repeated, but now there was uncertainty in his voice.

"I suggest you talk to Amie first before you pop the question and afterwards do a bit of soul searching to find out if she's the right woman for you. And if she is, then go for it. But don't blindly follow your heart; it might lead you somewhere you don't want to go."

"I can do that, but I don't think I'm going to change my mind."

Emily just nodded, having said everything she wanted to say. The ball was now in Noah's court and she hoped he decides against proposing. All she could see was heartbreak for him down the line when Amie eventually leaves him for another man.

Noah pushed back the chair and stood up. "Thanks, Emily, for the talk. It's a lot easier to work things out when nobody is yelling at you."

"No problem, Noah. I hope I helped you figure out a few things." _Like not marrying her and running for the hills,_ she silently added.

"Maybe, maybe not. Well I'm going to hit the sack and get some sleep."

Just then a loud snore followed by a snort emanated from the bedroom he was sharing with Gideon and both turned to the half open door.

"If you don't want to stay with your uncle, you can sleep in the loft. There's an extra bed up there. All you have to do is make it up," she offered.

"Nah, I'm used to it. Mom snores a lot worse than Uncle Jase," he said with a grin. "Night, Emily."

"Night, Noah," she said and watched him slip back into the bedroom and quietly closed the door. _Worse than Gideon's snoring? How could that be physically possible? The man could wake the dead with his._

Emily cleaned up and stretched out on the couch. She knew she should get some rest, but sleep was fleeting. The unsettled feeling in her gut was keeping her awake. It wasn't the pain of her ulcer flaring up, that she was very familiar with. It was more of a sensation that everything was going to come to a head tomorrow.


	19. Chapter 19

Early the next morning Gideon found Emily gazing out the window, a pair of binoculars in hand. Outside the skies were gray and overcast. The storm had pretty much blown itself out overnight, but it was still lightly snowing. Big, plump snowflakes were lazily making their way to the ground. As he went to brew a fresh pot of coffee, he profiled the room and its other occupant. A hint of cleaning solvent and gun oil still hung in the air. Two rifles were now propped up near the front door for easy access and Emily's Glock rested comfortably on her hip. The dented pillow and rumpled blanket on the couch indicated she had laid down at some point during the night. How long she remained was anyone's guess.

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked, pressing a mug of hot coffee into her hand.

Emily jumped at the sound of his voice and the heat radiating from the mug. "Some," she admitted, no using lying about it since he could probably see the dark circles under her tired eyes.

She had managed to snatch a couple hours of sleep before getting up at the crack of dawn to assume her post at the window. She forwent her usual cup of morning coffee because she didn't want to wake anyone up with her clattering about the small kitchen. Her gut was still telling her that today was the day when there was a good chance that everything was going to hell in a handbasket and she needed to be prepared in advance.

"Same here," Gideon agreed, standing next to her and taking a sip of his hot brew. "I kept worrying about how this was going to play out."

She turned to him, eyes wide and innocent looking. "You snore when you're awake?"

"I don't snore," he snorted.

"Three people in this cabin can attest that you do. Noah said his mother's snoring is worse than yours, but I find that hard to believe."

"No I don't and that's the end of the discussion." People have told him before that he snored. He didn't believe it then so he wouldn't believe it now.

"Yes, you do," she chirped over the rim of her coffee mug.

He ignored her and let his eyes drift up to the cloudy skies. "Any chance of us getting out of here today?"

Emily followed his gaze. "The weather radio said the skies should be clear by late afternoon and if the wind continues to stay low, the helicopter my mother chartered should be able to reach us."

"Do you think that will happen before Renaud's goons find us?"

"My gut is telling me no. We'll just have to hold them off until reinforcements arrive. Knowing my mother like I do, the pilot and co-pilot won't be the only people on board."

"Want to go over the plan again?"

"Yes," she agreed with a nod. "I've made a slight change to it."

Last night over dinner with Noah and Amie listening intently, Gideon and Emily hashed out the details of a workable plan. They were in a difficult situation because of their location. Foreign governments frowned on visitors to their fair country killing some of their citizens even if said citizens were criminals. The papers giving Emily permission to carry her gun and their law enforcement backgrounds wouldn't help them. The last thing she wanted, and probably the bureau, was an international incident. But both agreed when push came to shove, they would take whatever action necessary to protect themselves and those in their care.

It was a simple plan. While Noah and Amie hunkered down in the outhouse, Emily and Gideon would lure their pursuers away and hopefully keep them occupied until the cavalry arrived…if they arrived. If they didn't, then all bets were off. Upon remembering the tree house, she knew it would be a safer place for the youngsters to hide. Before she had been worried that Renaud's goons might search the cabin and spot the footprints in the snow heading for the outhouse and go investigate. Now the two could simply climb out through the window and make their way to the tree house while the building concealed their trail from prying eyes. Gideon readily agreed to the change and would inform the two when they got up.

A short time later Noah and Amie were talking with Gideon, learning about the changes in the plan before they all sat down to eat. While that was happening, Emily stepped out of the cabin wanting to clear her head and get a better look at the area. She barely looked up before she spotted something in the distance that immediately made her tense. She brought the binoculars up, adjusted the focus and muttered a mild oath. A few miles out two snowmobiles were rapidly approaching. Their time had run out.

She rushed back inside. "They're coming. They're a few miles out, but they are heading in our direction."

"How many?" Gideon demanded as he jumped to his feet.

"It's hard to tell from this distance exactly how many men, but it's definitely two snowmobiles so I would have to say at least four men."

"Are they friend or foe?" Noah asked.

"It's too early to tell." Gideon took him by the shoulders. "Take Amie to the tree house and barricade the door as best you can. Under no circumstances do you open the door until you get the all clear from Emily or me. They may try to lure you out of hiding by pretending to be the police."

"We won't."

Uncle and nephew stared at each other like they were try8ing to burn this final moment in their minds afraid they would never see each other again. Then Gideon pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "I love you, Noah."

"I love you too, Uncle Jase. Be safe."

"You too."

On impulse Emily removed the Glock from her hip and pressed the weapon into Noah's hands. "Do you know how to use a gun?"

"No, but I'm a quick learner," he said. There wasn't a hint of nervousness or fear in his voice, only determination and Emily liked that. The young man was proving to be a chip off the old Gideon block. She gave him a quick run down on how the gun worked and when he nodded he got it, she said, "Don't fire unless you are in fear of your life and aim for the chest. You have the right to defend yourself and Amie."

"I will," he agreed and then surprised her by pulling her into a hug. "Be safe, Emily," repeating the same words of caution he had just given his uncle.

"I'll do my best and you do the same."

"Noah broke the embrace and then without another word he clipped the holster to his belt and donned his coat. Then he helped Amie on with hers. The French girl was also silent, the realization that this whole situation wasn't a grand adventure after all, but a matter of life and death. The horrible truth that she, and those with her, could actually die today was a hard slap to the face. Welcome to real world where your past actions could have serious consequences in the present.

Gideon and Emily watched the young couple disappear through the back door; both hoped that Noah wouldn't be forced to take another man's life. Both intimately knew what it felt like after killing your first person, even if they didn't give you any choice. It was a feeling that stuck with you for the rest of your life and neither wanted that sensation weighing down on Noah's shoulders for his. The two scrambled about making the cabin look like they would be returning shortly before shoving the boxes of ammo in the pockets of their winter coats. Then Emily and Gideon snatched up the rifles and took off on the snowmobiles.

* * *

Louis Aumont was a man of his word. He was going to do this job for Renaud, but then that was that. Next time he needed something, he'd have to go elsewhere. But he was doing this begrudgingly. He knew it was a bad idea and Renaud was just too much of an idiot to realize that. Aumont didn't know what happened nor did he want to, but he was positive the Amie woman was at the center of this whole fiasco. Often when a woman was involve, the man didn't think with his head, but with what was in his pants.

"Do you have everything?" Aumont asked his underlings, looking at their bags as he fished the keys for the snowmobile from his pocket.

Upon arriving at the winery, a worker with a set of loose lips let it slip that the owner's daughter had shown up unexpectedly and taken her friends up to the family cabin. A little bit of palm greasing got him the directions and they then retreated to the nearest town to rent a couple of snowmobiles. The cabin was inaccessible by car or by foot in the winter.

"Oui."

"Then lets go."

The three men nodded, one of them standing dutifully behind Aumont, waiting for him to hop onto the snowmobile before he did. All four mounted and revved the engines. As they started racing through the snowy mountain terrain and the moisture from the snow was kicked back into his face, all Aumont could think was how much he hated nature, hated the snow and cold, and most of all, he hated Renaud. This job was bad on all levels.

Aumont thought his nose was going to fall off from frostbite when the cabin came into view. He gestured for them to stop. Sitting on top of the idling machine, he studied they layout. Smoke lazily curled out of the chimney indicating they were home. He didn't see any movement inside so it seemed the occupants were unaware of their presence. They have the advantage.

"We go silent," he told his men. "Remember I want the Americans alive. Wounded is fine as long as it doesn't interfere with their ability to talk."

They all nodded, removed their guns from the bags and spread out as they cautiously approached. He indicated for two to go around back on the off chance there was another door. He didn't want his intended targets escaping out the back while they were storming the front. Aumont gave his men two minutes to get into position before testing the doorknob. It was unlocked and he smiled. What fools these Americans are, thinking they were safe because they were out in the middle of nowhere. On the count of three they burst in and found the cabin devoid of life.

"Where are they?" he growled in annoyance.

"They're not out back," one of the men volunteered. "There's another building that we checked out, but it was also empty."

"And there are snowmobile tracks leading off into the distance."

Aumont paused to consider the possibilities. Either the Americans were on to them and fled or they were simply out and would be returning soon. He was leaning towards the latter because he highly doubted they were even aware there was a price on their heads. But he also couldn't discount the first one so it was best if he covered both options. He pointed to the two men who had covered the back entrance. "You will stay here hidden with the snowmobile in case the Americans return. Marcel and I will follow the trail."

His underlings nodded and everyone trooped back outside, heading to where they had left the snowmobiles. Just as they reached them, the crack of a rifle being fired filled the air followed by the thud of a bullet striking the tree just about their heads. The men dove for the ground, sending up puffs of snow as they hit. Frantic eyes peered from snow-crusted faces searching the terrain for the shooter. One goon raised his head a little too high, the second shot taking the pompom off the top of his ridiculous looking hat without hitting him. He let out an unmanly squeak of fright and dropped his head back down.

From the copse of trees further up the mountainside, Gideon let out a low appreciative whistle. "Nice shot."

"Thanks," Emily said, looking up from the scope on the rifle. "Target practice with Grandpa. Mom about had a cow when she learned he was teaching me to shoot."

"I'm sure she's still not happy about it."

Emily straightened from where she had the rifle braced against the seat of one of the snowmobiles. "More like resigned since it's a requirement of the job."

"Looks like you got their attention," he observed.

Down below two of the men were scrambling for one of the snowmobiles while gesturing for the others to stay behind. Clearly he was the leader. Their pursuers were readily falling for their ploy. She and Gideon wanted to split them up and even the odds. They were city boys and not used to the great outdoors. They weren't used to the woods like Gideon and Emily were.

"You know what to do?" she asked, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and climbing onto the machine.

"Of course." There was no hint of his normal arrogance. "Get them lost while trying to avoid getting killed."

"And try not to get yourself lost. See you back at the cabin."

"Same to you." Neither wished each other good luck because both knew they needed all the luck they could get.

Emily nodded once, revved the engine and took off. As predicted, the men veered off to chase after her the second she burst out of the cover of the trees. So intent on trying to catch up with her, they failed to notice she was alone.

Gideon gave her a painful ten-minute head start, wincing every time he heard gunfire, before starting his snowmobile. The element of surprise was on his side. When the two men left behind heard him approaching, they would assume their comrades were returning and lower their defenses. He shot out of the trees and down the hill, making a beeline to the men who were busy stomping their feet and blowing on their hands in an attempt to stay warm. At the very last second he swerved to a stop, baring avoiding side swiping the snowmobile and sending the men scrambling for safety.

Gideon flipped up his goggles so the men could clearly see his face. "I believe you are looking for me?" The men gaped at him.

He had no clue if either understood English, but he didn't stick around to find out. Giving them a friendly wave, he took off like a bat out of hell. Cursing up a storm in French, they jumped on their snowmobile and followed him. Gideon didn't even know if they had taken the bait until he peeked over his shoulder. Driving like a man possessed, he weaved in and out of the trees, hoping his pursuers would be clumsy enough to blunder into a tree at full speed or that he could put enough distance between them so that he could hide and lose them permanently. Behind him the men struggled to keep up, this being the first time either has ever been on a snowmobile. As the driver concentrated on not crashing, the other fired off round after round trying to pick Gideon off, but the constant zigzagging kept throwing off his aim.

The two snowmobiles burst into a clearing, turning the chase into an outright race. If he weren't running for his life, Gideon would have found the whole thing exhilarating. Flying over pristine snow, the wind whistling in his ears, the cold nipping at his face and the now bright blue with the occasional puffy cloud. It all felt so freeing. A sharp pain in his arm brought him abruptly back to the present, almost causing him to lose control.

"Son of a bitch, they shot me," he sworn.

He hunkered down, trying to make himself a smaller target and hit the throttle. The machine jumped forward, putting more distance between him and his pursuers. Spotting a cluster of trees ahead, he headed in that direction needing to get back under cover. As he did, Gideon heard a loud thumping noise over the roar of the engine. At the same time a dark shadow passed over him. He risked looking up, finding himself gazing at the bottom of a military helicopter and grinned. Emily's mother had come through; the cavalry had arrived in the nick of time.

The copter swooped down on the other snowmobile, shots being fired from the man leaning half way out the open side door with one foot on the runner to brace him. The snow around the snowmobile erupted as the rounds tore into it. Startled by the sudden appearance of the helicopter and bullets flying around him, the driver lost control. The snowmobile hit a small hard mogul and began airborne, slamming into a clump of very solid tree trunks. The men tumbled to into the snow and laid there unmoving.

Gideon brought his machine to a stop and watched as the pilot of the copter set it down with a gentle bump about fifty yards from him. As soon as the rotors slowed, the man who had done the shooting hopped out and hurried over to him. He had blonde hair, blue eyes and appeared to be in his late forties. Another man went to check out the men.

"Are you Jason Gideon?" he asked with British accent.

"I am. You must be the help Ambassador Prentiss sent."

The man ignored the rest of his statement, eyes busy scanning the mountainside. "Where's Emily?"

"She's leading the second group of men away from the cabin and my nephew."

"Bloody hell," Clyde Easter swore. "She's taking the fight to them instead of waiting for backup…again. When will she ever learn?"

Gideon was very curious about the again part, but now wasn't the time for it. She was still in danger. "We need to help her."

Easter turned his gaze back to him. "Do you know what direction she went in?"

"I do."

"Show us."

The two men, united in their fear for Emily's safety, hurried back to the copter. The other man remained behind to guard the prisoners who were lucky enough not to have been killed in the collision. They were battered and bruised, but they would live.

Within minutes the helicopter was back in the air and streaking in the direction Gideon on pointed them in. All eyes, squinting against the sun glare, scanned the ground looking for any signs that a snowmobile had past by this way. The trail was soon spotted and in no time did they catch sight of the two snowmobiles, but it was what they also saw that chilled them to the bone.

"Oh my god!"


	20. Chapter 20

As she was flying up the mountain, Emily felt like the plan was working. The goons were away from Noah and Amie, which was the most important thing. She risked a peek over her shoulder and was relieved to see the one snowmobile still hot on her tail. Hopefully Gideon was successful in luring the other two men away. As soon as she thought she was far enough away from the cabin and the tree house, she would start making her next move. She had to lose her pursuers and double back so they could make a clean escape, but they were making it easy for her. Whoever was driving knew what they were doing. Even so, she still has the advantage. She knew this mountain and it quirks like the back at her hand, the men didn't.

The whine of a bullet ricocheting off the back of the snowmobile made Emily scrunch down in an attempt to make herself less of a target. She put on a burst of speed and widened the space between them. The additional distance was all she needed. Emily took a hard turn into a heavily wooded area. Hidden from view, she swung the snowmobile around, snow flying up into the air and waited for her pursuers to appear. As soon as she saw the glint of sun on metal, she gunned it and roared forward, initiating a game of chicken.

"Let's see who blinks first," she said through clenched teeth.

Like a bull drawn to the red cape, they charged at each other, neither refusing to back down. When it seemed like the collision was inevitable, Aumont blinked. He jerked the snowmobile hard to the right as Emily whizzed by almost clipping them. He over corrected, causing the machine to roll and sending the men tumbling. They immediately scrambled back to it and struggled to right the snowmobile, Aumont yelling that they couldn't let her escape. He was pissed that the American, let alone a woman, was getting the best of him. With a dull thud, the runners hit the snow and they jumped back on. He didn't care what Renaud wanted, the woman was going to die and any secrets could go to grave with her.

By then Emily was a good hundred and fifty yards down the mountain. It was time for plan B that she literally came up with on the fly when she realized she couldn't shake them. She would have to disable their snowmobile and leave them stranded. A few bullets to the engine would do the trick. Emily brought her machine to a stop, jumped off and rested the rifle across the seat. She took off her goggles to peer through the scope, waiting for her pursuers to come into range.

She was just about to wrap her finger around the trigger when a roar from the mountain sent a shiver through her spine. There was a low rumble and a shaking, like the beginnings of an earthquake. If she was scared before, she was now as she quickly looked up, just in time to see the snow start to catapult down. Avalanche! They must have driven over some unstable snow.

"Merde!" she swore and wasted no time jumping back on the snowmobile and taking off. She knew it was suicide to try to outrun an avalanche so she headed for the side, hoping to get out of its path. As Emily fled for her life, she tried to remember what her grandfather had taught her.

It had started when she was very young when she was starting to explore her surroundings. They went to their favorite place and the first thing he told her was that the mountain and nature were unforgiving. They didn't care about people so you must be careful, especially during the winter when avalanches occurred. He stressed that the first few seconds were the most important. If it starts beneath your feet, try jumping up slope. If you can't, try to move to one side of the avalanche where it was slower and had less snow. From there he proceeded to tell her what to do if you couldn't get out of its path.

Being so young, she had found it fascinating, but it quickly got old. Every time she visited Grandpa would give her the same speech almost word for word and it started annoying her because she thought it wasn't very likely she would need to know it. Now that there was snow cascading down, threatening to swallow her whole, Emily was happy she knew what to do all because of his endless lectures.

* * *

The helicopter skimmed the top of the trees, all available eyes, squinting against the sun glare, scanning the ground looking for any signs that a snowmobile or two had passed this way.

"There!" Gideon shouted over the thumping of the rotor blades, pointing to a trail of disturbed snow that had been made by a machine and not an animal.

The pilot gave a thumbs up indicating he saw it and in no time did they catch sight of the two snowmobiles, but it was what they also saw that chilled them to the bone.

"Oh my god!" someone breathed as a wall of snow hurtled down the mountain, snapping trees in its wake.

The two snowmobiles and their riders were in a desperate race to save their lives. The higher one of the two appeared to be trying to outrun the avalanche while the lower one was running perpendicular to the advancing snow trying to get out of its path. They watched in horror as the snow caught up and engulfed the first snowmobile, the two men on board disappearing from sight. Gideon and Clyde didn't mourn their passing. Those men had tried to kill them and they got what they deserved. Karma could be a bitch at times. Everyone's worried attention turned to the lone snowmobile and the woman who drove it.

Gideon turned to Easter. "We've got to do something. Emily put her life on the line to protect my nephew and me. I can't let her die out here and like that."

Easter's eyes were glued on Emily. "We'll think of something."

"Well do it quickly. She doesn't have much time left."

* * *

Every second that ticked by was one second closer to death. Emily didn't dare risk a glance to see where the wall of snow was, fearing the sight of it towering over her would freeze her where she was and all hope would be lost. She knew it was getting closer, it's rumbling was starting to drown out the engine noise. Deep down Emily knew she wasn't going to make it, she could only hope she get as close to the edge of the avalanche where it was slower and upped her chances of survival. She always thought she would die in the line of duty probably cut down from a bullet, not done in by snow on the side of a mountain she always thought as her second home. But then, she did technically die once so it appeared fate wasn't going to let that happen twice in one lifetime.

Suddenly a rope ladder materialized out of nowhere, scaring the crap of her and almost causing her to lose control of the snowmobile. Emily didn't hesitate to take advantage of the miraculous lifeline that seemingly dropped from the heavens. She pushed off, jumping as high as she could from the moving machine. Her gloved hands latched on to one of the rungs and she quickly tangled her legs in the ladder to prevent gravity from taking hold of her and dragging her back to earth. She shot up in the air just in the nick of time as a wave of snow washed over the snowmobile and whisked it away.

With Emily clinging to the ladder like a stubborn barnacle, the helicopter headed for the nearest clearing. With the gentlest of touch, the pilot lowered her down and she gratefully jumped off, struggling to remain upright as the downdraft of the rotor blades beat down on her. She liked flying, but not that way, dangling like a worm on a hook high in the air. As the copter peeled off to set down a short distance away, Emily resisted the urge to drop to her knees in the snow and kiss the ground in thanks. That was too close for her liking and made her wonder how many of her nine lives did she have left.

Now that she was safe, Emily's concern turned to Gideon, praying that he also survived this fiasco. She soon had her answer when a familiar figure gestured to her from the open door. Crouching down to avoid the still rotating blades she hurried over, the rifle bumping against her back, squinting against the snow they were stirring up, having lost her goggles somewhere along the way. Two pairs of hands pulled her in and she collapsed into Gideon's arms.

"Thank god you're okay," Emily said in relief, giving him a quick hug.

"That I am," he agreed, grunting slightly in pain.

She heard it and leaned back, seeing the temporary bandage wrapped around his upper arm. "No you're not."

"It's no big deal. It's just a graze. It's a hell of a lot better than being buried alive under a ton of snow."

Emily let out a chuckle. 'Very true." It was then that she noticed the other person who had helped her into the helicopter. "Clyde, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, Love," he greeted her with a smirk.

The pilot powering up the helicopter and taking off drowned any further conversation out. They would have to finish it when they got back to the cabin to pick up Noah and Amie.

* * *

The pilot paused long enough to drop the three of them off at the cabin before flying off to retrieve the prisoners and promising to have one of the crew return Gideon's snowmobile. Even though Emily was dying to know how Clyde had gotten wind of this, she sure as hell didn't call him, they had to let Noah and Amie know that it was safe to come out. Wanting to keep the exact location of the tree house to herself as much as possible, she suggested Gideon tend to his wound and that Clyde could help him. Before either man could protest, she was already making her way toward the back of the cabin. As she turned the corner, she heard Clyde mutter bloody stubborn and she smiled. _Yes I'm stubborn and I'm proud of it._

Emily's path from the cabin to the tree house was a straight line while Noah's meandered a bit since he wasn't familiar with the area. The closer she got, the wider her smile grew as fond memories surfaced of her retreating there for some alone time that was spent either reading or playing with her toys. Knowing he was armed and highly nervous, Emily stopped at the bottom of the ladder to avoid being accidentally shot.

She placed one foot on the lowest rung and call out, "Noah, it's Emily. I'm alone and I'm coming up." She took a deep breath and started climbing.

Before she was even halfway up, Noah's head peeked carefully over the railing. "Is it over?"

"It is."

The second she reached the top; he pulled her into a hug. She didn't resist, fearing he might break her ribs by squeezing too hard if she did. "Uncle Jase? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Just a graze to his arm."

"He was shot?" Noah exclaimed, eyes wide in shock.

"Uh…honestly I'm not sure. It could have been a bullet or a tree branch that hit him while on the snowmobile." It had slipped her mind to ask how it happened, but she has a legitimate excuse. An avalanche had almost devoured her whole. Still she tried to calm his fear for his uncle. "Trust me when I say those are minor injuries. They may hurt like hell at first, but they're easy to patch up."

Meanwhile Amie sidled out and stood with her back against the wall. "We heard a helicopter. Does that mean we can go home?"

Emily's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. There was something different about the young couple, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was nor did she really have the time to figure it out. The copter was returning soon and she wanted to get both of them on it.

"Yes. We have to leave now so we can be waiting at the cabin when it returns."

The two nodded in agreement and followed her down the ladder. At the bottom Noah returned the gun to her. "Here. I'm so glad I didn't have to use it. I'm not sure I could have taken a human life."

"It's never easy, Noah," Emily said as she unzipped her jacket long enough to settle the Glock on her hip where it belonged.

In a single file line, they silently trooped back to the cabin. Soon Noah was in the arms of his uncle, the two exchanging soft words of relief and affection as they soaked in the sight of each other. Amie retreated to the fireplace to warm up and Emily, feeling like a third wheel, went back outside to await the arrival of the helicopter. Clyde joined her a few minutes later where they stood side by side gazing at nothing in particular.

He hugged his coat tighter to his body. He was never fond of the cold. "Emily, I'm glad to see you're doing well."

"Clyde," she responded somewhat coolly, finally looking at him. "What are doing here?"

"I was asked to help, Darling, and that was what I did."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who asked you to help?"

"Well, certainly not you. And why is that?"

"You know why, Clyde."

"Explain it to me anyway."

She sighed and kicked at a ball of snow. "This isn't back in the day. I don't answer to you anymore."

"I'm not ordering you to do anything. I'm simply asking why you didn't think to ask for help from someone who was not only on the same continent as you, but has the credentials to actually do something here." He didn't get it. He knew there was some tension between them, but if she couldn't even come to him in a dire situation, things were far worse than he imagined.

"I didn't think I could."

"Why not? You can always come to me."

"Can I?" she shot back.

"What does that mean?" He was genuinely confused, but couldn't quite keep his annoyance from showing.

"It means that…it means that I'm not sure I can trust you or rather how much I can." After the whole situation with Doyle, his secrets and his refusal to let her bring in the team, she doubted she could ever trust him again. Because of the duplicity she had read in him, she got Tsia killed. Her blood would always remain on her hands.

"Because?"

"We're been through a lot together, Clyde. Most of it wasn't good."

"But we survived it."

"At a cost." Emily shifted from one foot to the other. "After it all, after all the half truths and omissions and just simply because what we've been though, I'm not sure I know how to trust you."

Before he could respond, the loud thumping announced the arrival of the helicopter and they watched it descend, hover about the snow covered ground before gently setting down without a bump. Clyde and Emily had to turn their faces away to avoid being blinded by all the flying snowing stirred up by the blades.

"We'll finish this later," Clyde said once he could be heard over the sound of the copter.

"No we won't," Emily said to much his frustration and went inside to round everyone up.

It was determined they would be dropped off at the winery where their car was parked before the copter and its crew and prisoners flew back to its home base. With so many people crammed on, Emily decided to wait for the man returning with the snowmobile and ride back with him. It would give her some time to close up the cabin and to think. Once they were gone with a wave, she went back inside to tidy up. She put the rifles back in the gun safe, cleaned up the kitchen and doused the fires in the wood stove and fireplace. Satisfied that everything was in its proper place, she went to sit on the couch to wait. The man should be along any minute.

That's when the shaking began. It wasn't because she was cold, but because she had come within an inch of losing her life…again. Emily wrapped her arms around her trembling body, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't cry and tried to control her breathing so that she would start hyperventilating. How many more times could she walk that fine line between life and death before she finally makes the fatal mistake? This past year she has had two close calls with Doyle and now this one. Will the next one be the one that pushes her over the edge to the point of no return?

The only way to avoid that outcome was to quit her job, but she didn't want to do that. She was finally back, finally getting back into the swing of things and she loved it. She loved her job and she loved working with her friends. But what happened here actually had nothing to do with her work. It was then that Emily realized it wasn't so much her job, but her actions and desires to protect those who couldn't protect themselves or those who are close to her that brought on these dangerous situations. Perhaps she was too reckless and stubborn for her own good. Those behaviors weren't set in stone so they could be changed. It would be hard, but she could do it and, in the end, it would make her a better person and agent.

Just thinking that helped Emily get a hold of herself so by the time the guy showed up with the snowmobile, she was her normal cool, calm and collected self. She was raring to go. She made him move back to the passenger seat so that she could drive. He didn't put up much of a fight since he didn't know the best and quickest way off the mountain. Emily did and she could use that time to terrify her passenger and to formulate a plan to change her ways for the better.


	21. Chapter 21

_Here we are at the closing stages of the story. There are only a few chapters left. Thanks for sticking with me. Enjoy._

* * *

By the time Emily got back to the winery the boost from her realization had wore off and she was so bone tired that she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Just because she had come to her conclusion rather quickly didn't mean she was miraculously cured. There was a big difference between thinking of it and actually doing it. She knew she was incredibly messed up and that it would take a long time for her to right the ship. All the extra thinking and going around in circles on the ride home was also leaving her mentally exhausted. But the rest she longed for would have to wait until she finished what remained on her plate.

After dropping her passenger off, she drove around back and parked the snowmobile in the garage. With tired feet dragging, Emily headed for the house and its inviting warmth. She had given Gideon the key so they could let themselves in and not have to wait out in the cold until she got there. When the back door swung, she expected to see either him or Clyde standing in the doorway, but who was there was the second to last person she expected.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise, sliding to a stop.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Elizabeth surged forward, wrapping her arms around her daughter and pulling her in close.

The two were still figuring out their relationship so the hug was both awkward and comforting. "I'm fine." Elizabeth squeezed harder. "Really I am. There's not a scratch on me," she gasped.

When Emily thought she was about to suffocate in her mother's strong and loving embrace, she was released and held at arms length. "Are you sure?"

"Positive or would you like me to strip down to my birthday suit here in the cold and snow so you can see for yourself?"

Elizabeth took so long in answering that Emily was worried her mother might actually make her do it. "I'll take your word for it."

"Gee, Mom, thank you so much," she drawled. "Now what are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself that you were alright," Elizabeth responded.

Emily managed to extricate herself from her mother's grasp. "And now you have."

"Oh, Emily. You always manage to find trouble before it finds you. What happened out there?"

She didn't really want to go through that all again and offered, instead, a very abridged version that would appease her mother. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was hovering, staring at Emily as if giving her a full inspection.

"I was so worried about you," she confessed. "After I got your call…it was terrible, Emily. My heart just wouldn't stop racing." Elizabeth spent hours in a sheer panic worrying about her daughter's well being. Last time Emily went out on her own, she was declared dead. Even if that turned out not to be true, Elizabeth still had to live thinking her only child was dead. The damage was done. Now, whenever Emily did anything, there was an innate worry.

"I'm fine, Mom," Emily told her after Elizabeth held her gaze a little too long. She loved that her mother was there and cared enough to worry, but she wasn't a child. She didn't need her mommy to kiss her boo-boos better or tuck her in at night. She was perfectly fine.

"Of course you are. Now lets go back inside. It's freezing out here."

It was then that Emily realized Elizabeth didn't have a coat on. "Right," she agreed, grabbing her bag that she dropped when she had been pulled into that life-threatening hug. On impulse she slipped her free arm through her mother's. Elizabeth looked surprised at the touch and then smiled, giving Emily's arm a loving pat. "Is everyone inside?"

"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed. "I must confess you have some interesting men in your life."

Emily wasn't sure how to interpret that. It could mean that her mother couldn't stand Clyde and Gideon or she was getting on fabulously with them. The second one left a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. It would then be three against one and she didn't like those odds. They would have no trouble teaming up to get he to do something she didn't want to do. That sucked big time so Emily prayed it was the first.

* * *

Everyone was gathered in the living room, all with some kind of drink in hand or within easy reach. Noah and Amie sat on opposite ends of the couch. Gideon in one of the plush armchairs with his feet resting on the matching ottoman while Clyde stood next to the fireplace and its roaring fire with one arm casually stretched on the mantle. Emily's eyes went back to the young couple. There was definitely something off about the two. Before they were always near each other so that they could hold hands or touch each other. Now they looked liked they couldn't stand being in the same room.

"I see the great Arctic explorer has returned," Clyde said with a smirk.

Elizabeth pressed a mug of hot chocolate into her daughter's hand before settling into an empty chair. "I asked what's going on, but your friends said they would prefer to wait for you."

Emily ignored Clyde's little jab, breathing in the aroma of the hot beverage, before taking a long sip. The warmth quickly spread throughout her body chasing away the chill of the snowmobile ride. "I'll answer that in a moment, Mom, but there's something I need to know first." She turned to her old boss. "Clyde, how did you know where I was? You never gave me a straight answer."

"You know me, Darling. I never do anything the easy way." She shot him a dirty look. He remained unrepentant, but he did address her question. "When your team lost contact with you, Agent Hotchner called me because of my expertise."

"Shit!" she swore, almost spitting out her hot chocolate at the thought of Hotch actually calling Clyde. He detested the Brit and vice versa. "I forgot all about them. I promised Garcia to let her know how it all came out. Everything went downhill after I talked to her. I have to call and let them know I'm okay."

"I've already called them. They're relieved you're safe, but they still want to hear from you when have a chance," Gideon spoke up.

"Thanks." Hearing her voice would appease them, but they wouldn't be fully satisfied until they physically laid eyes on her. Her friends were very protective of her as she was of them. Gideon knew that and that was why he took it upon himself to make the call.

"After a few more little chats, Hotchner put me in contact with the Ambassador." Clyde nodded politely to Elizabeth. "I was already at the London Gateway office dealing with a staffing issue so it was easy for me to hop over the channel and get on the helicopter she hired."

"And when I heard the police officer you were dealing with was under investigation, I knew I couldn't just sit on my hands doing nothing so I immediately flew to Lyon where Robert picked me up. I wanted to be as close as possible to you in case you needed help," Elizabeth added.

There were certainly a lot of phone calls flying between Clyde, her mother and the team, Emily thought wryly, and none of them that she had been privy to, but that was her fault. She was the one who initiated the radio silence.

"Capitaine Dubois is a dirty cop," Emily stated.

Clyde's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "How do you know that? The joint investigation between Interpol and the National Police is still ongoing."

Emily went over to her go bag and removed Renaud's journal. She slowly turned it over in her hands as she returned to the group. She would love to hold on to it and go after him herself. To take him down and make him pay for every crime he committed, especially Rolf's murder, but it wasn't her place. She had no authority and would be considered a vigilante, a lawbreaker if she tried to take him down, but she has a great respect for the law…in any country. There was only one person in the room who has the proper authority to do something about it. It was the right thing to do.

"This is Alain Renaud's private journal. Dubois figures prominently in what I've read so far."

"Alain Renaud?" Clyde and Elizabeth exclaimed at the same time, his was a name they were very familiar with.

"Yes."

"How did you get it?"

Emily nodded at the young woman now shifting uneasily on her end of the couch. "Amie is or I should say was Renaud's mistress. She took the journal as insurance, thinking he would leave her alone."

"Which backfired horribly and got my nephew in this whole mess." Gideon did nothing to keep the distain he had for her out of his voice. Surprisingly Noah didn't jump to her defense this time.

"Of course it was the mistress," Clyde said snidely and held out his hand. "May I see it?"

Emily hesitated, reluctant to let the journal out of her possession. Her distrust of him was rearing its ugly head and possibly preventing her from doing the right thing. She pushed the feeling aside and extended her arm, but stopped with the journal mere inches from his outstretched hand.

"Clyde, do you promise to turn this over to the team in charge of the investigation and see that Renaud goes down hard for his crimes?"

There was an eager gleam in his blue eyes. "Trust me, Emily. He won't know what hit him."

This time she did. Clyde may be an arrogant prick and a royal pain in her ass, but he was a damn good agent. Once he sank his teeth into a case, he wouldn't let go until it was solved. Emily nodded and turned the journal over to him. "Don't let me down."

"I won't," he asked, tucking it away in the inner pocket of his jacket. "It would be wise for me to take Miss…"

"Amie Beauchene," the young woman supplied.

"Miss Beauchene into protective custody and the rest of you will have to be interviewed."

Gideon and Emily both knew that was going to happen, after all it was standard operating procedure, but before they could give their consent, Elizabeth stepped into the fray. "Which will happen on the grounds of the embassy with whatever representation required." She wanted her daughter and her friends safe on American soil.

"Of course, Ambassador," Clyde readily agreed. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

* * *

Within hours they were on Elizabeth's private jet flying back to Paris and the relative safety of the U.S. embassy. While Emily napped, Amie found the flight scary and exhilarating. It was a novel experience since it was her first time flying and she was enjoying every second of it. But before leaving the winery and making the drive to the Lyon-Saint Exupery airport where the jet was waiting, there was something important to do. She had to make a long overdue phone call.

Emily retreated to her childhood bedroom for privacy and called everyone back at the BAU. She figured they must have been worried sick about her if they got Clyde involved and she doubted anyone kept them up to date. How could they when they didn't have any answers until now either? So, she knew they'd be waiting for a call.

Penelope answered right away, not bothering to send out a quippy greeting or anything, just a simple, _"How is she? They? How are they?"_

"We're fine," Emily said.

 _"Emily! Guys, it's Emily!"_ Penelope yelled to everyone who then ran over to her. _"Oh, it's so good to hear your voice. You're on speaker. Tell us everything. How are you really?"_

There were a lot of inquiries about what happened. She answered everything about her health. She was fine, and that was what she told them. They weren't easily convinced, but she did her best. But it didn't end there. They wanted all the details about the situation, about how things unfolded, about Gideon and, just everything. She answered a few things, sharing just a little to tide them over, but really, she thought the rest was best told face to face.

 _"What? No! Tell us now."_

Emily promised to tell them everything, but she really wanted to do it in person. She really just wanted to get some real rest. This trip proved much more eventful than anticipated and she was tired. Her admitting she was tired raised some eyebrows. A new influx of questions about her health came, and, once again, she promised them that there was no major damage. She was just tired from the adventure.

"We'll talk again soon. I promise. Hotch, are you still there?" she asked.

 _"I am."_

"Can I talk to in private for a minute?"

" _Sure."_ He put her on hold and went to his office for the privacy Emily was requesting. _"What's up?"_ he asked after settling back behind his desk.

Emily started to pace while running her free hand through her hair. "I was wondering after all of this is officially over if you needed me back right away."

 _"You want to stay a little longer?"_ He was a little surprised that she wanted to stay after she had been so reluctant to go back to France in the beginning.

"I think I need to." He was ready to jump on that, but she didn't let him. "My mother wants to spend a little time with me. She... She's still a little messed up about everything that happened with me and Doyle, so I think I owe her a little quality mother-daughter time."

He studied the ceiling, unsure if she was truly just talking about her mother or a bit about both of them. _"How long are you thinking?"_

"Just a week, maybe."

 _"I think we can manage another week without you."_

"Great... I think. Thanks."

 _"Any major plans for your time off?"_

"Other than trying to survive concentrated doses of my mother?" she joked and shrugged. "I don't know." She just wanted to be reminded of the France she once loved so much and the good memories she had there.

 _"I'm sure you'll figure something out. Take the time you need, Emily. Relax a little. You deserve it."_

* * *

The next two days were filled with non-stop interviews from so many agencies and departments that they seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. It appeared everyone wanted a piece of Alain Renaud and his connections that they were tripping over each other in eager anticipation. Gideon and Emily, seasoned interviewers and expert witnesses, answered every question truthfully and to the point, never giving out more information than was necessary. It was a difficulty many a witness on the stand encountered. Instead of just answering the question, they expanded on it and dug themselves into a hole.

Even so, Emily was in a bit of a bind. Though she wanted to be as forthcoming as possible, she withheld the facts that she had gotten all of them fake passports and where she got the car that was still stashed in the garage back at the winery. Visiting a black market forger was against the law, but they were important contacts and she didn't want to burn any bridges unless she absolutely had to, never knowing when she might have to call on them again some time in the far future. Clyde would understand and approve of her actions, but the French government may not. If Noah or Amie mentioned it, she would admit to it and take the heat. Luckily she has someone high up in her corner to smooth any ruffled feathers. Surprisingly it never came up so she didn't have to call on her mother to bail her out.

As Elizabeth promised, a consular officer sat in on each and every interview, especially for Noah who was inexperienced in these types of matters. Gideon wanted to be with his nephew, but he didn't want to give off the appearance that he was trying to influence Noah's testimony so he had to let the boy stand on his own two feet and it seemed he handled it well. Even though Clyde wasn't an active member of the investigations, he observed the proceedings. Emily may no longer be one of his active assets, he still considered her a friend, even if she wasn't feeling it at this time, and he wasn't going to let some eager, wet behind the ears whelp run her through the wringer. He was going to be there for her whether she liked it or not.

When it seemed like the end was never going to be in sight, it was announced that the investigators were satisfied with the way everything went down. Noah was no longer considered a suspect in Rolf's murder and Emily, and Gideon to a lesser extent, hadn't violated any laws. They were free to go home.


	22. Chapter 22

_Sorry for the delay. Thanksgiving threw me out of whack, but now I'm back on schedule. Enjoy._

* * *

Emily was nestled in a plush leather chair in the library of the Hotel de Pontalba, the official residence of the U.S. Ambassador; book in hand and a glass of white wine on the side table. Now that Noah was safe and the journal that caused all this was in the hands of the proper authorities, she could kick back and relax. Last night was the first time in a while that she had slept soundly and without disturbing dreams and she hoped many more would follow.

The sound of footsteps on hardwood caught her attention and she knew she was no longer alone. Marking her page, Emily looked up to find Noah coming to a stop in front of her. "Hi, Noah," she said in greeting.

"Hi. This place is fantastic," he enthused.

She smiled. "Been out sketching the architecture?" noticing the brand new sketchbook he was waving around.

"And inside. I especially love the gatehouse."

"Well it and the portals were left intact when the residence was substantively renovated in 1876."

"Sweet. It's always fun hearing little details like that."

"Plans to see anymore of Europe's architecture?"

Noah shook his head. 'No. I think I've had my fill of traveling. Besides I really want to go to Germany to attend Rolf's funeral. I consider him a friend and I owe it to him to be there. If I hadn't brought him to the café, he wouldn't have been killed."

The guilt on his face was as clear as day. Emily was well familiar with where his mind was and what he was feeling. She had played the 'what if' game many times over the years and she has yet to win. As much as you try, you can't change the past.

"Rolf's death isn't your fault even if it feels like it is."

"I know. Uncle Jase told me the same thing."

"Your Uncle Jase is a smart man," she said with a smile.

Noah's smile matched hers. "That he is. He's going to the funeral with me."

"That's great. How does Amie feel about that?"

He went to stand by the windows with his arm crossed, gazing out at the extensive snow covered lawn, all his excitement gone. "I wouldn't know."

"No? Why not?" she asked, though she couldn't say she didn't see the answer coming.

"We broke up," he said with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Noah." Emily truly was. She may have not liked Amie and what she stood for, but she really liked him and hated to see him hurt. "When did this happen?" she asked even though she had a good idea when and where it occurred.

"Back when we were hiding in the treehouse. There wasn't anything to do except nervously wait and talk.

There was nothing like fearing for your life to trigger a heart to heart talk. "What did she have to say?"

"She has no desire to settle down," he huffed. "She's enjoying her new found freedom and wants to travel. All I want to do is to go home and get back to my studies."

Emily got up and went to rest a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "I don't blame you. After everything that has happened to you over the past weeks, home looks awfully good right now."

"It sure does."

"I know it hurts and it will for a while, but be glad you found out now and not months down the line when you were more invested in the relationship."

"That's true," he said with a shrug and turned to her. "Thanks, Emily, for the advice and helping Uncle Jase to get me out of this mess."

"You're welcome, Noah, for both. You have a safe trip to Germany and home."

"I will." His face spread in a wide and somewhat sad smile as he held up the sketchbook. "Well I'm going to do some more drawing before we leave in a few hours."

"Have fun," she said with a light laugh. "Try the east wing. There's a lot of features you may find interesting."

"Cool," he said and hurried off.

Emily watched him leave with a bemused smile. She felt bad for him, that a girl, who obviously wasn't right for him, has broken his heart. But Noah was young; he will bounce back quickly and pursue a girl who shared his likes. Or in this day and age, be pursued by the girl. She resumed her seat, opened the book to where she had left off, took a sip of wine and resumed reading.

She had barely gotten through two paragraphs when another person entered the library. Emily repressed a sigh as she closed the book, wondering with the place turned into Grand Central Station. There was no need for her to see who it was since she easily recognized Gideon's heavy tread. Closing her eyes, she listened to him making his way over to the mini-bar in the corner and pouring a glass of Glenfiddich single malt scotch whisky. She only reopened them when he settled into the other leather armchair.

"I see you made yourself at home," she said with a smirk.

'When in Rome, do as the Romans do," he replied, taking a sip of his drink.

"This is Paris, not Rome, Gideon."

He shrugged. "It still applies. Besides it's there, right? Might as well help myself." Emily scoffed at that. "So you lived her as a child? It must have been exciting."

Emily gazed around the library as her mind went back in time. "If you like living in a museum. There were so many things I wasn't allowed to touch. I swear I spent half my time walking around with my hands behind my back or stuffed in my pockets." She smiled fondly. "But I know this place like the back of my hand. I explored every inch of it and knew all the best places to hide."

"Bet that drove your parents nuts."

"And the staff. I could easily disappear for hours on end."

"That's one long game of hide and seek."

She grinned. "And I always won," she said, causing him to chuckle. "Noah was just in here and he said the two of you are going to attend Rolf's funeral in Germany."

"Yes," he agreed with a nod. "And from there, home."

Emily finished off the rest of her wine before leaning forward in her chair. She remembered that she had decided not to pry into his personal life early on in the trip, but Gideon kept putting his nose into hers since so it was time to turn the tables. "So where exactly is home? You didn't drop a line to anyone, especially Reid, saying where you ended up. All we knew," She waved a hand vaguely in the air, "Was that you were out there somewhere."

Gideon wasn't surprised, having expected his whereabouts to come up at some point, but he hadn't guessed it would take her this long to ask. Apparently she wasn't interested or she has more control over her curiosity than he thought. If it had been Garcia, she would've been peppering him with endless questions the second she saw him.

"I wandered the country for a while before I finally settled in a small town in the Cascade Range in Oregon."

 _Oregon,_ she thought in surprise. She hadn't thought he would end up on the west coast. She assumed, incorrectly, that he traveled a bit before returning to Roanoke and holing up in his cabin like a hermit. A smile tugged at her lips. He was already rocking the look with the unruly hair and beard.

"You like it there?"

"I do. It's a quiet town with little or no crime. I have a place of a secluded street that gives me all the privacy I need and I can do whatever I want: bird watching, fishing, relaxing."

"Sounds like you're happy."

Gideon didn't even have to think about it. "I am, very much so. In the end, leaving the bureau was the best thing I ever did besides coming a father."

He polished off his drink and got up to make a fresh one, asking along the way if she wanted a refill. Emily said please and he poured her a second glass. He resumed his seat and they spent several minutes in companionable silence before he spoke up.

"You seemed reluctant to come at first. I thought it was because of me, but you have a lot of history here, far beyond what I know."

"I do," Emily agreed, gazing into her glass.

"And I pushed you to come, but I can't say I'm sorry I did."

What was Emily supposed to say to that? She didn't know, so she stayed silent to see what he'd say next.

"I could tell it was rough for you, especially at night," he said pointedly, letting her know he was still curious about that. There was a lot left unsaid there. "But you got through it, and I couldn't have gotten through all of this without your help."

"Of course not. You don't speak French," she jokingly pointed out.

"No, I don't," he agreed with a chuckle, "and I don't have your connections, but I wasn't talking about just that."

"I know."

"What I'm trying to say is thank you. Thanks for your help. Noah, Amie and even I owe our lives to you."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"No?" He said, and she shrugged.

"You would have survived without me."

"Maybe. The truth is that I could have helped them, but we would have been sitting ducks without you here. So I'm glad you decided to come. I know I kept you here longer than you planned. So, again, thanks."

"You're welcome, Jason."

* * *

To Emily's surprise, especially because she spent them in the company of her mother, the next three days passed rather quickly. They were still working on rebuilding their relationship so they did have their ups and downs. But the good times outnumbered the bad ones, though there were some moments when Emily felt like she was on the verge of being smothered to death. As much as she loved Paris, she wanted to go back to the one place that felt like home and that was the winery and possibly the cabin after her mother left and the weather held. Elizabeth readily agreed and they made plans, but before they left the city, she accepted the invitation to have dinner with Sebastien and his family. He was disappointed that Emily didn't bring her nice gentleman friend along, but Elizabeth was a very welcome addition. As Emily predicted the meal was delicious, especially Marie's Gigot D'Agneau Pluereur and Profiteroles.

The next morning over breakfast, Elizabeth dropped a little bomb on her unsuspecting daughter. "Let me take you shopping before we head to the winery, Emily. We can go to all the shops you loved as a child, visit a few that I love, get some new clothes and trinkets. It would be fun. Just us girls. And we can stop a patisserie. I can taste the madeleines already."

Once she got over her initial surprise, Emily tried to get out of it. "I don't know, Mom. I don't think I'm up for it."

"I insist. You deserve a little shopping spree. You can buy whatever you like."

"I've already been shopping."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Did you buy anything for yourself?"

"Well…no."

"Then it's not a valid argument. Think of the shoes, dear. There's a Gucci store not too far from here."

"I don't need expensive shoes."

"Sometimes it's not about need, Emily. I'm offering to buy them for you. The cost is irrelevant."

"I don't think it is," Emily protested, knowing she was fighting an uphill battle. Soon her mother would play the guilt trip card and she would end up caving.

"Please, Emily. It's just a few hours. Is it really that hard to spend time with your poor, old mother?"

Ahha, there it is and right on schedule. "Aren't you laying it on rather thick, Mom?'

"Yes and its only going to get deeper and thicker until you agree to letting me spoil you."

Emily sighed. She knew when she was beat so she caved and agreed to go shopping.

It turned out to be a pleasant couple of hours flouncing about from shop to shop. Emily found she was actually enjoying herself and, surprisingly, had to teach her mother a lesson in restraint, doing her best to keep costs down. Neither of them needed as much as Elizabeth wanted to buy. It was a battle at times, not in a bad way, to keep Elizabeth's spending under control. She wanted to buy everything under the sun for her daughter, but Emily happily accepted the new pair of boots and a few outfits her mother willingly purchased. They didn't have this magical bonding experience, but they did enjoy each other's company and take the time to be with one another without pressure of working on their relationship or any threats of danger looming. They simply had a few hours of easy mother-daughter time.

On their last night before Elizabeth had to leave for her next assignment, they sat before a roaring fire at the manor house, sipping on the winery's first attempt at a mondeuse blanche. Both detected the aromas of magnolia and acacia, followed by the hazelnuts and rich plum flavors. The snow gently falling outside made it the perfect night for wine testing and contemplation.

"I think Robert got it right. This wine is wonderful," Emily said.

"It is and it will be an excellent addition to the winery's selection," Elizabeth agreed.

They fell silent, quietly swirling the wine in their glasses, examining it further before taking a sip and letting the liquid slide smoothly over their tongues and swallowing. At one point Elizabeth put her glass down and fixed her gaze on her daughter.

"Sweetheart, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Elizabeth took a moment to compose her thoughts. She had so many questions about the Doyle situation, especially about what happened afterwards, but she had been afraid to ask because, at the time, their relationship and Emily herself was still fragile. But now both were on firmer ground, they were more comfortable with each other, making conversations easier. If she got Emily to open up about what happened, it would help some of the mental wounds heal. Emily was very much her daughter, having the same ability to keep everything bottled up inside instead of talking about it.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Elizabeth waffled. "I completely understand if you're not ready."

Emily hadn't seen her mother this indecisive since the other day when she couldn't make up her mind which outfit she wanted to buy. She ended up getting both. It also meant that Emily wasn't going to like the question, but she couldn't refuse to answer until she knew what it was.

"What do you want to know, Mom?" She asked and steeled herself for what was to come.

"What was it like?"

"What?"

"Being gone or being dead to everyone while in hiding. What was it like for you?" She only got the bare bones when Agent Hotchner called to inform her that Emily was actually alive.

Emily stared into her wine glass for a long time, making Elizabeth think she wasn't going to answer. Then she pulled her gaze away and shared a solemn look with her mother. "It was five months of hell."

Elizabeth held her tongue, knowing it would prompt…well…hopefully prompt Emily to say more.

"I spent two months in the hospital, two weeks unconscious. Luckily for six of those eight weeks I had JJ at my side. She read to me and kept me company. Every day I looked forward to her visiting because she was my only link to the outside world."

"Why did she stop?"

Emily looked away, took a sip of her wine and grimaced like it had just gone sour. "Because I kicked her out after she told me Hotch faked my death and I was going to be relocated to Paris. I was so pissed," she set the glass down, fearing in her anger she would squeeze too hard and shatter it, "and I'm afraid I took it out on her."

Elizabeth could sympathize with that. Agent Jareau appeared to be the only one, besides Agent Hotchner, who knew she was still alive and that would make her the easiest target. "Have you apologized to her?"

"Yeah, when I got back. When she came to Paris to drop off the fake passports and the bank account numbers, I couldn't look her in the eyes because I was angry and embarrassed by my behavior."

"You still sound angry."

"I am…at Hotch. I know it was the right thing to do and he had no choice, but I'm still pissed. He took my life away without consulting me."

Apparently her daughter's anger toward her boss was just as strong as her own. The man let her think Emily was dead instead of letting her in on the secret. She would have kept it and played the role of a grieving mother to perfection, but he wanted the genuine deal to sell it. Elizabeth kept her anger to herself because she had promised Emily that she wouldn't act on it.

"Have you talked to him about how you feel?"

There was a quick shake of the head. "No, I haven't and I'm not sure I can…ever. Only time will tell."

"That's understandable, but you should at some point. You shouldn't keep it bottled up. It'll eat at your from the inside."

 _Talk about the pot calling the kettle black_ , Emily thought sourly. _Who do you think I learned it from?_ "I know. After being relocated here, I spent about a month in a convalescence home and the rest holed up in a dingy one bedroom apartment in a rundown neighborhood. I wasn't exactly living in the lap of luxury," she said, letting out a rueful laugh.

"I lived in constant fear for my life. I rarely went out and when I did, I gave people a wide berth and jumped at the smallest of shadows. I had no appetite. I hardly slept because of the nightmares and I always had my hand wrapped around my gun when I did. Most nights were spent pacing or staring out the window watching life go on while mine was frozen in time. I never felt so...so lost and alone."

Just talking about it brought all the feelings back. Emily could feel every bit of fear and sadness that she felt then, so much so that she was barely keeping herself from looking around in a hyper vigilant surveillance effort. She had done a lot of healing, but it wasn't gone. She couldn't erase what happened or the scars, physical or mental, from her body, it would stay with her forever. She just hoped that one day she could talk about it without getting that uncomfortable nauseous energy.

Elizabeth, saddened by the things her daughter had to go through and seeing how much it was still getting to her, acted on impulse, spontaneously reaching over and hugging Emily, telling her, "I'm so sorry that happened to you. So sorry you had to face so much alone."

Then she surprised her daughter by saying, "You weren't the only one that felt that way. Alone. When I thought you died...you are my only family Emily, and a mother should never outlive her child. I spent everyday regretting not spending more time with you, not trying to make things better between us and working on our relationship. I couldn't think of one thing I did right to hold on to and I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to have any more good memories with you."

Those months were dark for her. She shared in Emily's loss of appetite, her emotions overpowering everything else. Everyday she yearned to hear her daughter's voice one more time, to tell her that she was sorry for not being a better mother, and, mostly to make sure Emily knew how much she truly loved her. There were days when she wholeheartedly believed Emily died thinking her mother didn't love her the way a mother should. That was one of the things that hurt most.

Emily returned the hug, knowing she was the source of her mother's grief. If she hadn't gone after Doyle instead of asking the team for help, Elizabeth wouldn't be in pain. It was all her fault and she would never forgive herself. She'll just add it to the guilt she was already carrying.

"I think we're having a good memory right now."

Her attempt at humor broke the tension hanging in the room and both women laughed. They sat back in their chairs. "There is one thing I did learn when I returned to my old apartment in Paris," Emily said as Elizabeth refilled their wine glasses.

"What's that?"

"No matter how painful and how alone we felt we survived it. Those five long months are a part of us and we are stronger women because of it."

* * *

After Elizabeth departed for her assignment, Emily decided to spend the rest of her unplanned vacation up at the cabin. Winter made it feel more cut off from the rest of the world and its trouble, but this time she didn't mind the isolation because she voluntarily chose it unlike her time in Paris. Like before, the moment she set foot across the threshold, she felt closer to her grandfather. This was their place and it was where she felt safe and happy. As she gazed around fondly, Emily saw all the personal touches her grandfather had added as he built it from scratch and she realized she had stayed away for far too long. His death tore a big hole in her heart and she couldn't bear coming back here without him there to welcome her. Inadvertently she had left the cabin as short of a shrine to him and she knew he wouldn't want that. He would want it used.

Maybe it was time for Emily to make it hers. Her grandfather left it to her in his will so she was free to do whatever she wanted to do to it. Right now it had a very masculine feel to it right now. Perhaps she could soften it up with splashes of color while maintaining its original charm. She could also bring it into the twenty first century by adding electricity. Running wires up the mountain would be astronomically expensive, but some solar panels might work. Just enough power for a few small appliances, a couple of lamps and a water pump for indoor plumbing. It would be so nice not having to bundle up in your warmest clothes to make a run for the outhouse. She could have an addition put on where the back door is, large enough for a bathroom and a mudroom.

Emily quickly warmed up to the idea and spent the rest of her days off, alternating between relaxing and making lists of what she wanted to make the cabin feel more like hers. She also drew diagrams and took measurements, intending to run them by Derek and see what he thought. It would be expensive, but she had the money and was in no hurry to get it done. She would, in turn, put the remodel in Robert's capable hands for he would make sure it was done correctly. And before she knew it, her time was up and she had to go home.


	23. Chapter 23

_Here's the final chapter. Enjoy._

* * *

No one was there to greet Emily when she landed at Dulles on a blustery Friday afternoon. The team was off in New Mexico on a case and when she volunteered to immediately head to the BAU to help them from there, Hotch vetoed the suggestion. He told her to enjoy the weekend and they would see her bright and early at the office Monday morning. Emily didn't put up any resistance, figuring she could use the time to do her laundry and rest up from the flight. Even though she had slept for part of the trip, travel and going through customs always wore her out and she was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed.

After retrieving her car from long-term parking, Emily made a minor detour before heading for her temporary home away from home at Dave's. She wanted to see how much progress Derek has made on her rowhouse, figuring he wouldn't have waited for her to return and she was right on the money. Emily was surprised and delighted to find the demolition was done. As she walked through the now open space, she knew she had made the right decision going with the open floor concept and was already picturing where her furniture would go. It will be so nice to finally get all of her possessions out of storage and arranged the way she liked. And some day soon she'll be watching Sergio exploring his new home. Visiting him at Penelope's just wasn't the same as having him living permanently with her. Satisfied with the progress and vowing to help with the rest of the renovation as best she could, Emily locked up and headed for Dave's.

It was there that Emily got the welcome home she deserved. Mudgie literally mugged her the second she stepped through the door, body quivering and tail going a mile a minute. In his mind she had been gone for years and he missed her very much. To show her how much, he either danced around her or stuck to her like Velcro, both actions preventing Emily from moving any further away from the door. After a ton of petting and sweet-talking, that she would deny if anyone heard her, Emily extricated herself and retreated to her room to unpack.

Since Hotch told her to take the weekend to relax, that was exactly what Emily planned to do, but that didn't mean she had to be alone to do it. She missed her friends so when Dave called later to check in with her, Emily used that opportunity to ask when he thought they'd be returning. When he said no later than Saturday hopefully, she kindly asked if he would allow her to host a little team gathering, with his help cooking of course. He readily agreed and offered to tell the team.

Come Sunday, everyone was at Dave's for a late lunch prepared by Dave with just a little help from Emily. Emily was anxious to give them their presents she had wrapped yesterday with Mudgie unwanted help. As punishment for constantly putting his nose where it didn't belong and getting hair in the tape, she made him wear a large pink bow on his head that was still there when Dave got home. She decided not to wait until Christmas, preferring to do it in person to see their reactions, especially the boys'.

After a delicious and filling lunch, Emily couldn't wait any longer and passed out the presents. In addition to the gifts she picked up in France, she included a bottle of the winery's new mondeuse blanche that she asked Robert to ship over. By an unspoken agreement, the team let the kids go first. The adults looked on as the two boys tore into their presents, sending bits of wrapping paper into the air and over the floor. Jack got his open first, eyes widening in delight as he pulled out a blue sailboat with a white sail.

"Daddy, look at what I got!" he cried out excitedly, holding it up for all to see.

"I see, Buddy. That's a cool sailboat."

"It is," he agreed, studying it in greater detail. "Gonna to need a big place to sail it cause it's too big for the bathtub." He ran a finger over his name in french painted on the stern.

Hotch laughed. "When it's warmer we'll go to the lake at Constitution Gardens. You're still allowed to sail boats there." He could remember the time when it was okay to sail them in the reflecting pool by the Washington Monument.

"Sweet."

"Shouldn't you be thanking someone for such a nice gift?"

"Oh yeah." He hurried over and gave Emily a big hug. "Thanks, Em'ly. I love it!"

"You're welcome, Sport," Emily said, returning the hug.

Meanwhile Henry finished opening his gift. He looked from his red sailboat to Jack's blue one and burst into tears.

Emily went to kneel next to him and ran a hand over his long blonde hair. "What's wrong, Pancho? Don't you like it?" She really thought he would like it and she made sure to get them the same thing so they wouldn't be jealous. Guess she was wrong.

"I like blue."

"I thought red was your favorite color?"

He sniffled, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. "It is, but I like blue too."

Ah, so the color is the issue and she thought she knew a way to fix it and make Henry the happy go lucky kid he normally was. Gently she took the sailboat from him. "Henry, I had this made just for you," she explained, stretching the truth just a little.

Another sniffle. "You did?"

"Uh huh. I had them paint it red because I knew red is your favorite color in the whole wide world and…" Emily turned it around so he could see the back of it. "I also had them put your name on the stern so everyone can see that it's your boat and nobody else's."

Jack pointed at the lettering. "That doesn't look like Henry and mine doesn't either."

Emily chuckled. "That's because both names are in French. Jacques for you and Henri with an 'I' for Master Henry here. Now the two of you will be the only little boys with French named sailboats."

"Cool," Jack whistled.

She turned her attention back to Henry. Emily wiped away the remnants of his tears before lightly tapping him on the nose with one finger. "You better now?"

He nodded and then abruptly threw his arms around the neck, sailboat squished between them. "Thanks, Auntie Em," he whispered in her ear.

"Glad you like it, Pancho," she responded, giving him a one armed hug since the other was occupied with holding the boat. At the same time Emily breathed a sigh of relief. Another crisis averted.

* * *

Now it was the team's turn. A lot of thought went into picking the right thing for each of them and she hoped they knew that once they opened them. So, not wasting any time, she gave each of them a present and a bottle of wine and stood back to watch as they were opened.

The looks on their faces and their exclamations of appreciation told Emily everything she wanted to know and she loved it. They liked the gifts and that made her feel good. She was even happier when Penelope bounded up and wrapped her arms around her, engulfing Emily in a tight hug.

"I love my couture umbrella. It's so frilly and so pink, thank you," she said to Emily before squeezing the brunette tighter, taking her breath away. "But what were you thinking not telling me you owned a winery. That's something you tell a girl who likes wine and invites you to girls' night all the time. Wine is a must, Emily."

"But I don't own the winery," Emily said once Penelope broke the embrace. "Mother does."

"And one day it will be yours."

Emily arched an dubious eyebrow. "Pen, are you planning on knocking my mother off so that I can inherit the winery and supply you with free wine?"

Penelope tented her fingers over her heart. "Don't be silly. Mommy dearest doesn't need to die," she said with a light laugh. "You just need to open the supply chain and start sending some vino my way."

"I just gave you a bottle of our new mondeuse blanche."

"One measly bottle isn't going to do it."

Derek leaned in and said in a loud stage whisper, "Don't do it, Partner. Baby Girl will drink that winery of yours dry."

"Don't I know it," Emily responded.

"Hey! I would not. I'm not lush," Penelope defended herself.

They laughed as Emily came up with something she knew would appease her friend. "How about I have Robert send you a different bottle each month? A wine of the month club type thing."

"Yes! Do it!" Penelope happily accepted before linking her arm with Emily's and moving them closer to the group. "Now sit down and tell us all about your adventure. And leave nothing out."

Emily did as she was told and filled them in on what happened from the moment she had Gideon had stepped onto French soil. Even though Penelope had commanded her to tell all, Emily intentionally left out anything personal like Gideon's prying, her return to her old apartment and the nightmare. Only Hotch knew about the nightmare and she was confident he would never mention to anyone. By the time she got to the chase and the resulting avalanche, everyone was sitting on the edges of their seats, hanging on to her every word.

"That must have been terrifying," JJ said with a shudder, prompting Will to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "To see all that snow hurtling towards you."

"It was," Emily admitted. "My hands were aching from clutching the handle bars so tightly and I bet beneath my gloves my knuckles were bone white. I had the throttle fully open even though I knew it was an act of futility to outrun an avalanche. All I could hear as I fled for my life was my grandfather's voice lecturing me what to do if I ever got caught in one." In her eyes they could see how close Emily could have been to death.

"Statistically speaking, on average, 25 people die in an avalanche each year. Just like your situation, Emily, snowmobiles account for almost half of the deaths. Their weight, the machine vibrations and most importantly they can easily and quickly take you places you shouldn't be. But if you know what to do and have the right equipment, your odds go up and you have a 9 out of 10 chance of surviving."

Everyone turned to stare at the young genius. "Gee, Reid, what a fun fact," Derek smirked.

He brightened. "Really?"

"No."

His face fell. "Oh."

"Thankfully our Emster here knew a little something about something and got herself out safely," Penelope said, breaking up the little riff. 'Or I would have had to bring her frozen corpse back just to kill her myself."

"Ew," JJ said, wrinkling her nose at the image.

"Do you know what's happening with Alain Renaud?" Hotch asked.

"According to Clyde when he stopped by the cabin, Renaud is hiding in his home and behind his expensive lawyers. Building a solid corruption case is going to take some time, but his journal is turning out to be a verifiable gold mine. His little empire is collapsing about his ears like a house of cards as he tries to call in favors and everyone is backing away, fearing they are in the journal."

"Smart people," Dave observed, "But I don't think it's going to work. Got a feeling a lot of heads will be rolling by the time this is over."

"Corruption is far reaching especially with murder and attempted murder charges tossed in. The Capitaine and his Lieutenant Gideon and I dealt with has been suspended pending the outcome of the investigation," Emily explained.

"What about the goons chasing you?" Derek asked.

"The two that were arrested aren't talking, but their fingerprints connect them to a faction of the French mafia led by a man named Louis Aumont. They're assuming he's one of the two still missing men."

The couple of days she spent up at the cabin, Emily could see in the far distance the helicopter searching for the bodies of the two men who had chased her. The mountain and its snow are stubborn and won't surrender its dead until spring. They did find her snowmobile and the last she heard Robert was still bemoaning its condition and how much it was going to cost to fix it.

Derek continued. "And the investigation should eventually lead to Renaud hiring them to do his dirty work."

"That's what I'm hoping for," she agreed. "Clyde promised to keep me informed. He may be lacking in some things, but he does keep his promises."

* * *

"Thought you might want a second," Emily said, handing Derek a fresh beer. She found him standing by the French doors watching Jack and Henry romping with Mudgie in the backyard.

"Thanks, partner," he said with a smile, clinking bottles with he. He took a swig of his, turning his back outside. "The cold doesn't seem to bother them."

She followed his gaze and smiled. " I think all children are impervious to it." Outside it was in the mid-thirties without a hint of snow in the air. Forecasters where predicting it was going to be a green Christmas even if it was still a few weeks away. "If they had their way, they would be out there in nothing but a shirt and shorts."

"Probably," he agreed with a chuckle, remembering how many times his mother forced him to wear a jacket when he didn't want to and how uncool it made him look.

Emily took a sip of her beer. "I stopped by the rowhouse to see how much progress you made and I was amazed. It appears you're a one man wrecking crew. The whole place has been gutted."

Derek grinned. "Yup, but I can't take full credit for it. I had help."

"Oh?"

"I had some help from Russ and his friend Jimmy."

Emily choked on her beer, forcing Derek to clap her on the back. "Russ?" she sputtered. "You met Russ?"

"Yup. They just showed up one night armed with sledge hammers and eager to smash down some walls."

"Boys and their toys." Once she got over her shock, Emily was relieved Derek wasn't the one who initiated contact. He would have known she wouldn't be a happy camper, preferring to be the one to do the introductions. It never occurred to her that Russ might seek out the rest of the team after he met Dave.

"He's a great kid, Emily. We talked about baseball, school, his desire to know more about remodeling."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Probably because he hasn't had the opportunity to use the skills he learning in woodworking class." He gave her a sideways glance. "Oh, he did ask me for some dating advice."

Emily chocked on her beer a second time. "Please tell me you said no, Derek," she said once she could speak again.

"I didn't. You got a problem with that?"

She couldn't hold back the groan. "The last thing I need on my hands is a younger, white version of you."

"Is that so bad?" Flashing her a cheeky grin.

"Yes. It's going to take me months to break him of all the bad habits you taught him."

"What a way to hurt a guy." Derek placed his free hand over his heart as if wounded, earning a snort of derision from Emily. "Seriously, he wanted to ask out a girl in his history class that he was certain didn't know he existed so I suggested he ask if she would like to got get some coffee after class."

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You didn't feed him any of your corny pick up lines?"

"Only if you're counting 'Hi, I'm Russ and I was wondering if you would like to get some coffee with me' as one. Otherwise the answer is no. Scouts honor."

"I'll take your word or it, but," she leveled her beer bottle at him, "if I find out you did, your ass is mine, Morgan."

"My ass has always been yours, Partner."

They gazed at each other and then burst into a round of chuckles. They clinked bottles again before taking sips. Bottles still in hand, the two stood watching the boys and dog play in a comfortable silence. There was something on Derek's mind about Russ and he wasn't sure how to bring it up, but he didn't want to risk not saying anything at all. Either way Emily was going to be pissed at him.

"Hey, Em?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't talk to Russ all that much about yourself, do you?"

Her eyes wrinkled. She wasn't sure where that came from. "I tell him what he needs to know, I guess. I answer the questions he asks. He's a kid. I don't think he wants all the personal details."

"And if he did?"

"What are you getting at, Derek?"

He took a deep breath. "He asked…about your past?" he blurted out.

"My past? Which part of my past? What did you tell him?"

"It wasn't anything bad."

"What did you say?" she asked more forcefully.

"I just told him…"

"Told him what?"

"Russ wanted to know about the five months you were away," he explained. "I kept it vague. I just told him a bad guy wanted revenge. You were injured in the process and went into protective custody until he was caught. That's it."

Emily looked around the room to make sure they weren't being observed before stepping closer. She wanted to clock him with the beer bottle, but she resisted the urge. Instead, with eyes burning with indignation, she hissed in a low and dangerous voice, "You had no right telling him even that. It was none of his business."

Derek could see she was angry with him and she has every right to be. He had violated her privacy, but he also thought he had done the right thing so he stuck to his guns. "You're right, Emily. I shouldn't have and I apologize for that, but I had a good reason to do so. Russ said he has asked you several times about it and you always changed the subject."

"He doesn't need to know stuff like that. He's just a kid."

He shook his head. "Russ is no longer that child who needed protecting. He's a smart, well grounded young man who cares deeply about you." He held back the part that he was sure Russ thought of Emily as a mother figure because he wasn't positive if she was ready to hear that yet. It was something that should come from Russ and not him.

Emily blinked at that. Damn if he wasn't right about that. In her mind Russ would always be that red headed twelve-year-old baseball obsessed kid even though she has watched him grow into a tall baseball obsessed young adult. Some of her anger dissipated as she said, "I care deeply for him too."

"So don't be angry at him, be angry at me."

"Believe me that I am."

"As you should be. Talk to him. He's old enough to understand. It might do you a world of good to confide in someone not connected to the team."

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises."

"That's all I ask. We're good?"

She exhaled loudly. "We're good."

Derek's face split into a relieved grin. He hated it when she was pissed at him. She made his life miserable until she decided to forgive me. "For a moment I thought you were going to hit me with your beer bottle."

Emily's grin was more on the wicked side. "Oh, buddy, you have no idea how close you came. Luckily, for you, I didn't want to waste a perfectly good beer on your head."

"Lucky me."

"Lucky for the beer."

They shared a laugh and then Derek frowned. "Uh oh. I better get out there," he said and hurried outside.

Emily turned around and smiled. The boys had abandoned playing with Mudgie and were now trying to sail their new boats in Dave's koi pond. As she watched them, she remembered the other part of the conversation she had with Clyde after he had shown up uninvited at the cabin that she didn't tell the team.

* * *

" _I have a proposition for you," he said, piquing Emily's interests._

 _"What kind of proposition?"_

 _He sat down on the couch and told her about his job and the benefits it afforded him. There was an open position that he thought would be perfect for her._

 _Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "You want me to run the London Interpol office?"_

 _"Yes. You'd have your own team and oversee the operations. You'd be the boss."_

 _As much as Emily liked that idea, she was happy where she was and who she was with. She didn't see herself moving away when she thought she was finally settling back into this life._

 _"Just think about it," he said._

 _"No."_

 _"No?" He frowned in puzzlement. " No you won't think about it? Is that a yes, then?"_

 _"No… No I can't take the job."_

 _"Why not?"_

 _"I appreciate the offer, Clyde. I really do. It sounds great and maybe a few years from now, hell, maybe a few months or weeks from now, I'd jump on the opportunity, but I'm not there yet. I am happy where I am, doing what I'm doing. I don't see myself picking up to move after I have just started to put down roots. I've bought a house and I'm in the process of renovating it. So, my answer is thank you, but no."_

 _He shook his head, saddened. "I'm sorry to hear that. You would have been great." But he accepted her answer, adding that if she ever changed her mind, to let him know._

* * *

Like She had told him, she was flattered by the offer. It was a great opportunity, one of those once in a lifetime job that people would kill for. She would love to be head of the office and have her own team, but she wasn't ready for that responsibility and the politics that came along with it. She still has a lot of mental healing to do. This unplanned trip with Gideon back to the city of her exile has helped, but she still had a long way to go before she could feel whole again. It was sort of funny that she had gone to Paris to help him find his nephew and in the end Gideon, in his prying and annoying ways, ended up helping her find a missing piece of herself. For that would be forever grateful to him even though she couldn't stand him most of the time.

Emily took a swig of her beer as she looked around at her friends. Reid, Hotch, JJ and Will talking amiably before the fire burning in the fireplace. Dave and Penelope in the kitchen arguing over the way to turn one of his recipes into a meatless meal. Derek with his pants rolled up to his knees, standing in the freezing koi pond, rescuing one of the boats while Jack and Henry. Mudgie rolling in something he probably shouldn't be rolling in. All sent a warm feeling through her body. Like Gideon, who was happy and content with his life in Oregon, Emily was so far content and happy with her life in DC and with how her relationship with her mother was progressing. This was her home and this was her family. What more did she need?

* * *

 _And that's a wrap! Thank you to everyone who stuck with the story and to those who kindly left reviews. All were much appreciated. This one proved to be a tough one to write and fought with me the whole time, but I triumphed and made it to the end. I'll be taking my normal break so I should be back around February (hopefully) with a new one. Until then._

 _The Profilers Choice awards 2016 are back. Go to their forum and nominate your favorite stories._


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